#cleaved together (post finale)

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Unbidden

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader x Aemond Targaryen Warnings: Cuckolding, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3k

Summary: Noticing his nephew's wife appears dissatisfied in her marriage, Daemon sets out to show them both that there is pleasure to be found within the marital bed...

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She has scarcely been able to take her eyes off of Daemon since he first arrived at the Red Keep. He possesses the classically handsome features bestowed upon those of Valyrian blood, carries himself with self assured confidence, and embodies an air of dangerous unpredictability which both frightens and excites her in equal measure. Though it is none of these qualities that keep her gaze fixated upon him.

Her interest is piqued by how utterly devoted he is to his wife. When she stood beside her husband, Aemond, in the Great Hall, as Vaemond Velaryon challenged the succession of Driftmark, her attention was focused solely on Daemon and Rhaenyra. He had been glued to her side, his gaze always seeking hers, and when Vaemond had dared to call her a whore and her children “bastards”, he had not hesitated in unsheathing his sword and slicing the man’s head in half. She wonders if her own husband would defend her so staunchly.

She is not blind to their starkly different situations; Daemon and Rhaenyra’s union is one of love, it is plain for all to see. Her and Aemond’s is one of political necessity. Although they have grown fond of each other over the last six months of their marriage, and he has never been unkind to her, she cannot help the jealousy that swirls, ugly and acrid, within her chest at the ease of which her husband’s half sister and his uncle interact with one another.

The two children they have together already, and the one that currently grows within the swell of Rhaenyra’s belly are proof enough of their passion for one another. However, the looks they exchange at the dinner table this evening are smoldering and filled with intent. Their fingers brush against each other as they pass dishes of food between them, and Daemon’s hand seems to find its way to her stomach, caressing her lovingly, unaware he is even doing it.

Her and Aemond’s intimacy is not so effortless, though it is not from a lack of trying on her part. He beds her frequently, and she greets his advances with enthusiasm, yet his stoicism renders him incapable of ever fully losing control. He is receptive to her pleas of “harder”, “faster”, but she is always left with the dissatisfaction of feeling he is holding something back, and outside of their shared bedchamber it is rare that he ever touches her. She has attempted to broach the subject with him before, framing it as a means for them to find greater satisfaction within their marital bed, but he always waves her away dismissively, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

She can sense something dark and urgent bubbling beneath the surface of him, and longs to draw it out, to experience the full force of the fire of the dragon that runs through his veins, but she does not know how to entice it. 

It had appeared prominent in his seeing eye as Dark Sister had cleaved the Velaryon man’s skull in twain, a potent mixture of bloodlust and desire, as his pupil had dilated ever so slightly. It had sent a shiver up her spine, heat pooling between her thighs, causing her to squeeze them together to fend off the dull, throbbing ache.

She longs for that look to be cast upon her, for her to be the recipient of whatever wrath that follows, and now she is sure that it is Daemon that holds the key to coaxing the darker side of her husband out to play.

The dinner is a tense affair. Aemond sits beside her, so tightly wound she is sure the lightest of touches would cause him to shatter like glass. When he finally loses his cool, throwing barbed words towards his nephews, resulting in an exchange of blows, the evening draws to an abrupt close, with each of them being dismissed to their respective quarters. As they depart the dining hall, her husband and his uncle lock eyes, a smirk of amusement flashing briefly across Daemon’s features as Aemond’s nostrils flare in irritation.

She can feel the heat of his anger radiating from him as he strides through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast, scurrying alongside him in an attempt to match his pace. That look has returned and with it her desperate feeling of lust. If she doesn’t seize the opportunity now, then she is unsure of when it will present itself again.

Reaching out for her husband, she grasps his elbow, her fingers taut against the leather sleeve of his tunic. His steps falter and he turns to look at her quizzically, chest heaving with the laboured breaths of his barely concealed rage.

“What is it?” He snaps.

Instinctively, she shrinks back, second guessing her decision as she sees the way he glares down at her, lip curled into a snarl. Despite her fear, she reminds herself that this is the side of Aemond she had been seeking, and leans into him, placing her hands upon his chest.

“I want you,” she whispers, gazing up at him pleadingly.

“Not here,” he sighs, his expression softening, as he gently grasps her hands in his, moving them back to her sides.

Though she remains outwardly calm, in spite of her disappointment, internally she feels so frustrated she could scream. The look she craves is gone, he has rebuffed her advances and she knows that once more she is destined to an evening where he will treat her as though she is made of bone china.

“I believe you were told to return to your quarters.”

The intrusion of Daemon’s voice causes Aemond to take a quick step backwards, away from her, as she turns to look. He stands before them in the corridor, posture rigid and chin raised up ever so slightly, giving the impression that he is looking down his nose at them both.

“We are on our way,” Aemond responds icily, drawing himself to his full height and staring down his uncle.

The smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of Daemon’s mouth, clearly unphased by his nephew’s hostile demeanour. “I shall escort you both, to ensure there is no further delay.”

Before either one of them has the opportunity to protest, he steps forward, one hand reaching for Aemond’s shoulder, while he places the other at the small of her back. Aemond wrenches away, huffing irritably as he continues walking. She makes no such effort to struggle away from Daemon’s touch, his fingers feeling like a brand against her flesh through the fabric of her dress. 

The three of them walk in uncomfortable silence, the only sound is the echo of their footsteps against the flagstone floor. Her eyes widen in surprise when they reach her and Aemond’s shared chambers and, instead of bidding them goodnight, Daemon follows them inside, closing the doors behind them.

Aemond stares at him quizzically, eye narrowed. “What are you doing, Uncle? If you are here to reprimand me for what was said at dinner then–”

“I am here for your wife, actually,” he interrupts, turning his head towards her as his eyes move from her head to her feet and back up again.

She feels her skin grow hot under the intensity of his gaze, swallowing thickly as he regards her as a cat would a mouse.

“What do you want with my wife?” Aemond asks, his voice lowering in quiet threat.

It is the first time she has ever heard her husband speak of her so possessively and it makes her pulse race. She wants more of this, there is an intense thrill to having the attention of two Targaryen men placed solely upon her.

“Do not think I have not noticed,” Daemon says to her, ignoring Aemond as he continues to stare at her. “You have been ogling me all day. Why?”

Embarrassment prickles at her, and she lowers her gaze. Her voice is small and pitiful sounding to her ears as she answers. “Forgive me, My Prince. I did not mean to stare.”

“Look at me when you speak to me,” he commands, “and answer the question.”

She exhales shakily, lifting her eyes to meet his. His stare is piercing, his eyes darkened and predatory in the low lighting of her and Aemond’s apartments.

“I found myself…rather taken by how you engage with Princess Rhaenyra. You are quite affectionate with one another.”

Daemon’s brow furrows slightly as he cocks his head in curiosity. “Does your own husband not show you affection?”

A wave of sadness washes over her, causing her shoulders to sag at the reminder of the lack of intimacy between her and Aemond. She spares him a glance, noticing he has not moved from where he stands. His expression could be mistaken for neutral were it not for the fury that rages tempestuously within his seeing eye as he glares at his uncle.

Drawing in a deep breath, she looks back to Daemon, answering simply, honestly: “no.” Shame shrouds her, suffocating and dense, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry, her head dipping as she focuses on the spot where the hem of her skirts meets the stone floor. She cannot bear to look at either man, knowing she has spoken out of turn about her husband, not just in front of him, but to his uncle as well.

She gasps as Daemon steps forward, crowding her space, his finger crooking beneath her chin to lift her face up towards his. The touch of him makes her knees buckle slightly and she leans back against the table behind her for support, no longer trusting her legs to keep her upright. “What a brave little thing you are,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that twists her stomach into knots.

“I–I am sorry,” she stammers, eyes flitting nervously between her husband and his uncle. “I should not have–”

“There is nothing wrong with expressing your wants, your desires,” Daemon reassures her. “Perhaps my nephew just needs a little help in learning how best to please his wife?”

She squeals in surprise as he grasps the backs of her thighs, lifting her until she is seated upon the edge of the table she had been leaning against. Lips parted and eyes wide, she turns her head towards Aemond, and though his fists are clenched at his sides, his breathing accelerated in silent fury, he makes no move to stop what is happening. That look from earlier has returned, ravenous and half crazed, she interprets it as silent consent, wanting to do all she can to keep it fixed upon her.

“What of your wife? Will she not mind you…helping us?” She asks timidly, as Daemon’s hands make quick work of rucking her skirts up around her hips.

He chuckles drily in response, dragging her smallclothes down her legs, allowing them to dangle from a single ankle. “You and Aemond have much to learn, sweet girl. Fucking is a pleasure, and Rhaenyra does not mind how or with whom we seek it, as long as our loyalties do not falter.”

The very idea seems scandalous to her, yet wetness gathers between her legs all the same. Aemond has now taken up the seat beside the fireplace, watching them both intently, his stare unblinking and fiery. 

Daemon’s fingers travel up her legs, until they reach the insides of her thighs. His fingers are thicker than Aemond’s, his touch is calloused and rough, where Aemond’s is deft, yet hesitant. His fingertips dig into her soft flesh, hard enough to bruise as he pries her legs apart, a hum of approval rumbling in his throat at the arousal he finds glistening there.

“Does your husband make you this wet?” He asks with gentle curiosity.

She nods enthusiastically, looking over at Aemond and seeing a small, prideful smile ghost quickly across his lips before disappearing.

“Good,” Daemon tells her. “No problems there then.”

His fingertips swipe through her sodden folds, his middle finger quick to locate her pearl and circle it with precision. The movement makes her tense, a jolt of pleasure causing her hips to buck as she mewls helplessly.

“Does he touch you like this?”

“N–no…” she whimpers in response.

“Hmm,” Daemon glances over his shoulder, before looking back at her. “Well, ensure he does in future. I am sure he will; he is paying close attention.”

Looking back over at Aemond, she feels herself clench around nothing, her desire building with a steady, rhythmic ache as she sees the lacings of his trousers strain against his hardness. He is enjoying watching this, lips slightly parted and eye hooded. The sight of it rids her of the last of her inhibitions as Daemon moves his focus away from her bud and dares to push his two forefingers inside of her. She tilts her head back, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she feels her muscles stretch to accommodate him.

“You must be prepared, thoroughly, before you are fucked,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear.

Her mind is foggy, struggling to comprehend Daemon’s words as he presses the pads of his fingers upwards, dragging them against a spot inside of her that causes her toes to curl and moisture to trickle down onto the tabletop. Does he really mean to fuck her? Surely that would be a step too far? Yet she finds it difficult to care when he is pushing her towards the precipice of pleasure itself with simply his fingers. Her mind reels with the possibility of what it would feel like to be stretched out around his cock.

As his fingers pump faster, she moves her hips in tandem, chasing the urgently building pressure that is growing inside of her. He pulls them from her suddenly, causing her to whine in frustration at being robbed of her peak.

Daemon grins wolfishly as his hands move to unfasten his breeches. “I think we have learned enough in that regard, and are ready to move on.”

She averts her gaze as he frees himself, her eyes finding Aemond’s, another silent check in for consent. His throat bobs as he swallows, his knuckles almost white with the force of the grip he has on the armrests of where he sits, but he makes no move to stop what is happening.

Her hands grasp at Daemon’s shoulders as he sheathes himself inside of her, knocking the air from her lungs. Aemond and his uncle are similar in many respects, but this is a matter in which the pair of them could not be more different.

It is odd to her that, despite being between her thighs, he has not tried to kiss her. Whether it is a mark of respect for hers and Aemond’s marriage, or simply because he does not want to, she is unsure, but she is grateful for his abstinence. A kiss seems too intimate a gesture, there is nothing sweet about this.

Daemon sets a brutal pace, once she has had a moment to adjust, rocking into her with a force that causes the table legs to scrape loudly against the hard floor. He is so much more self assured than her husband, utterly unafraid to violate her, and it is freeing to be handled so roughly.

She moans wantonly as he moves a hand to wrap around her throat, applying gentle pressure at the sides. “Do not be afraid to be a little unrestrained,” Daemon grits out, a statement clearly not meant for her, even though his eyes bore into hers. “I have yet to bed a woman who does not enjoy it.”

He has the right of it. The hand around her throat, coupled with the almost violent manner in which he thrusts inside of her is dizzying and, as he slips a hand between them to stroke at her pearl once more, she knows she will not last long. It has never been this intense with Aemond before; a lack of experience, coupled with a fear of hurting her means he is always gentle, hesitant where he need not be. 

The grip on her throat tightens, the ministrations against her bud grow more insistent as she feels Daemon pulsate inside of her, his jaw clenching at the telltale sign that he is close. With a final, harsh thrust of his hips, she cries out in ecstasy as the warmth of his seed spills inside of her, triggering her own release as she tightens around him in rapid, successive pulses.

“Good girl,” he mutters quietly.

He is quick to pull out of her, as she leans back against her palms, pliant and breathless from the experience. She barely registers Daemon tucking himself away and slipping out of the chamber doors, as Aemond moves into view, standing before her.

Under ordinary circumstances, the wrathful insanity she sees reflected in his blue eye would frighten her, but tonight it has butterflies fluttering ceaselessly in her lower belly. His hand moves to the back of her head, gripping her hair tightly by the roots, tugging her head forcefully backwards. Her yelp of pain is stifled by him pressing his lips firmly against hers, his tongue licking against her own in a kiss that is more a desperate display of possession than a loving embrace.

“You are mine,” he breathes, letting go of her momentarily to tug at the lacings of his trousers.

“Yours,” she whispers back, satisfied excitement causing her pulse to thrum at the knowledge she has unleashed the side of Aemond she has always longed for.

Daemon’s spend has begun to dribble out of her, and as she watches the head of her husband’s cock push it forcefully back inside of her, she knows he will remind her every night from now on exactly which Targaryen Prince it is that she belongs to.

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[empty-movement]

Musical Utena ~ Blooming Rose of Deepest Black EVERYTHING

Oh, hey! Did you like what I did with the 2018 Musical Utena ~ Bud of the White Rose? With the posting a script, lyrics to the main banger, and links to download the everything I ever did about it?

I'm back to bring you all that tasty kibble, but for the sequel that followed the next year!

Musical Utena ~ Blooming Rose of Deepest Black EVERYTHING

You've asked, like, a lot a lot, and finally I answer! You want the script? You want some goofy memes and meta? You want to download (check the thread!) both the original crunchy streams on top of the Blu-ray, but also the soundtrack I made? Wanna read the translated program? The interview with Ikuhara and Yoshitani? Wanna see all the bromides? Yep, like last time I even collected the Twitter behind the scenes images.

Once again a massive undertaking both originally and in pulling together the script, which again, I did live on the subtitles, so I never actually made a script I could just copy and paste to show y'all! Well! Here it is!

Also, yes, I know you wanna see the banger's lyrics:

Two Worlds a Mirror Apart 鏡分ケる二つノ世界​ Kagami Wakeru Futatsu no Sekai​

KOZUE: With your sword, cleave into two…​ その剣により鋭く区切られた​ Sono ken ni yori surudoku kugirareta​ MIKI: ...the light and the dark reflected within the mirror...​ 鏡の中の光と闇​ Kagami no naka no hikari to yami​ SHIORI: The chosen live on, embraced by the light...​ 選ばれた者は光に包まれた生者​ Erabareta mono ha hikari ni tsutsumareta seija​ JURI: …while the rest are left for dead in the dark.​ 選バレヌ者ハ闇ノ中ノ死者 ​ Erabarenu mono ha yami no Naka no shisha​ WAKABA: The one you seek in the mirror...​ 鏡の中を探しても​ Kagami no naka wo sagashite mo ​ WAKABA: ...will never find a path to you...​ あの人は帰ってこない​ ano hito ha kaettekonai​ SAIONJI: ...so smash it...​ 鏡ヲ壊シテ​ Kagami wo kowashite​ SAIONJI: ...and make your own way to their side.​ アノ人ノモトへ​ ano hito no moto e​ NANAMI: You are illuminated...​ 光君は確かに僕の​ Hikaru kimi ha tashika ni boku no​ NANAMI: ...standing right here before me.​ 前に存在している​ Mae ni sonzai shiteiru​ EVERYONE: This is no illusion, so grasp my hand now...​ 幻想じやない僕の手を握っていて​ Gensou janai boku no te wo nigitteite​ EVERYONE: ...and let my warmth make its way to you.​ 触れた手のぬくもりが証明している​ Fureta te no nukumori ga shoumei shiteiru​ EVERYONE: Please, never let me go.​ ねえだからもうこの手を離さないで​ Nēdakara mou kono te wo hanasanaide​

MAMIYA: You are shrouded by an enveloping darkness...​ すぐ目の前の闇が君を包み込んで​ Sugu me no mae no yami ga kimi wo tsutsumikonde​ MIKAGE: ...feeling as though you'll vanish into nothing...​ 消してしまう気がするから​ Kesshite shimau ki ga suru kara​ AKIO: ...consumed by the light...​ スグ目ノ前ノ光ノ​ Sugu me no mae no hikari no​ AKIO: ...that has reached out to touch you.​ 君ヲ包モウトシテモ​ Kimi wo tsutsumou to shite mo​ EVERYONE: Hold on, and don't lose heart...​ 決シテシマエナイ心ニ​ Kesshite shimaenai kokoro ni​ ANTHY: Though in darkness, I know...​ 闇ノ僕ハ確カニ​ Yami no boku ha tashika ni ​ ANTHY: ...you're standing here before me.​ 君ノ前ニ存在シテルケド​ Kimi no mae ni sonzai shiteru kedo​ UTENA: None of this is real, so grasp my hand now…​ 現実ジャナイ僕ノ手ヲ握ッテミテ​ Genjitsu janai boku no te wo nigitteite​ EVERYONE: ...and never forget...​ 触レタ手ノ温モリハ​ fureta te no nukumori ha​ EVERYONE: ...my warmth will make its way to you.​ 忘レテイナイ​ wasureteinai​ EVERYONE: Please, never let me go.​ ネェダケドモウコノ手ニ触レラレナイ​ Nē dakedo mou ko no te ni furerarenai​ EVERYONE: These are two worlds, a mirror apart.​ 鏡分ケる二つノ世界​ Kagami wakeru futatsu no sekai​

​(Thanks to Nagumo and cowtown for help with the romanization!)

[rosy-crow]

Sephiroth is such a fucking wild character when I really think about it sometimes.

He was injected with alien cells in his mom’s womb as part of an extremely dubious science experiment, transformed into “part alien” because of it, was marked a successful specimen shortly after he was born, and then raised by a company as a product and weapon.

He got sent to war (ACTUAL WAR THAT ALSO INVOLVED GENOCIDE) at age 14 by Shinra as the first of his specific type of super-soldier, LITERALLY BY HIMSELF with no guide or mentor, but just the knowledge of his past training, a nameless sword, a few materia, and a picture of his missing mom.

He took command of a team of veteran mercenaries, got overly attached to them after just over a week had passed because they were apparently the first kind adults he had ever met + he had never known any semblance of a normal family, home or life, and then they all killed a bunch of people together on an island.

Halfway through Sephiroth fucking lost the photo of his mom like a classic little kid would except he was a child soldier, so he had to dig through literal corpses to look for it.

Meanwhile, his adult team started realizing the company they were working for was pretty corrupt and hmm, genocide bad. So they DESERTED to go save a kid that was the sole survivor of the people they had battled to extinction.

And Sephiroth COMMITTED TREASON ON HIS FIRST MISSION for them and to go help save the kid. But then he killed that same kid to save his team from a sinking island instead, who got really upset about that and left him to go desert their posts as soldiers hired by Shinra. Also, he somehow regained his mom’s photo during this whole fiasco but then one of his adult squad-mates kicked it into the sea in a fit of rage. Most pointless photo ever.

But that’s fine because then he just went BACK TO WAR and grew up through his teen years fighting in it, made two new friends with his fellow super-soldiers, nearly finished the war with them, and then they deserted too. One basically committed assisted suicide. One vanished completely and went ballistic.

Then Sephiroth ended up in his hometown on a mission, but he didn’t know it was his hometown because had no idea who he was.

He instead found a creepy weird room inside a reactor full of his dad’s unethical human experimentation, had a mental breakdown and a bad falling out with one of his former super-soldier friends who was dying and deranged, went to a basement library in an old haunted mansion, read a bunch of data on his own experimental creation and the project that led to his conception, believed a lie that he was the last of an ancient species, and lost his mind.

So he went and burned down his own hometown, killed a bunch of people, cut off the head of an eldritch alien that he thought was his mom and stole it to keep, got nearly cleaved in half by some farm boy, fell into the depths of a mako reactor (with the aforementioned alien head), and died for five years before coming back to destroy the world with a meteor. He briefly became a god around this time too.

He didn’t successfully carry out the meteor plan and basically died AGAIN, but this time he came back by using the forms of three random kids to rediscover his own personality because his memories of his past self were erased. He was resurrected, fought his mortal nemesis for revenge, lost again, and seemingly died for the last time but with a final statement about not really ever vanishing in full? Sure?

Also, his real mom is locked away in a crystal because she couldn’t kill herself thanks to being stuffed with alien cells. His dad never admitted to even being his father until his last moments and was just a devoutly cruel, horribly abusive scientist, that let Sephiroth go through all the previous shit just to see what would happen.

For some reason, Sephiroth can also traverse multiple worlds now too.

Oh and he has hair almost to his knees, cat eyes, goth leather club gear, and a sword taller than he is. He is 6’7/200 cm.

Oh and the wing! He has one random wing too. Sure.

Absolutely bizarre character. There is so much wrong with him. It’s perfect.

[nerdallwritey]

Perfect Every Time

Summary: You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?” Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly.  “What?” you matched his smile. Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.  You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.” He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks.  OR Before your party travels into the Underdark, you and Astarion catch one last sunrise together.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 7.2k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, hand job, piv sex, water sex, dirty talk, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, extra mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), Illmater's blood-stained rack Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 4 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Surprise!! I'm back with a new chapter of Beauty and the Bard! This part is shorter than the other ones (who cheered) because it morphed from a little smut scene into one that deserved its very own part. One million thanks to everyone who's read and enjoyed the series so far, it's so much fun chatting with you guys and hearing your thoughts and it truly means the world that you guys care so much about these goofs. I already have an idea for Part 5, so that will be coming soon, but I have a request to fill first! Thank you all for your patience. In the meantime, please enjoy our regularly scheduled silliness with Astarion and bard!tav :) (Thank you once again to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part was the Tiefling party!

Taglist: @a66-1, @khaleesiofthewolves, @khywren, @lollipopsandlandmines, @mizuki-nautilus - Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series!

Several days had passed since the hijinxs of the Tiefling party had taken place. By now, the former refugees of the Emerald Grove were well on their way to Baldur’s Gate, the looming threat of goblins and power hungry druids far from their minds, their thoughts instead replaced with hope for new beginnings in the city. 

Just like he’d promised, Halsin had returned the next day to discuss the parasites, officially joining your party of misfits on your journey towards the Shadow Cursed Lands and Moonrise Towers. His calming presence and sage advice was a welcome addition to the group, especially given that this leadership role had been thrust upon you by the others with next to no discussion. Having Halsin around finally felt like there was a responsible adult among you. Not that you all weren’t adults, but you definitely had your… quirks. Sure, Halsin turned into a bear if he let his emotions go unchecked, but Gale was a bomb. 

As for you and Astarion, not much had really changed, you were both still yourselves, but now you openly tortured your companions with more pet names and cheek kisses and obnoxiously loud banter. Lae’zel had threatened to cleave you both in half on multiple occasions, but had yet to follow through on that threat. The others would groan loudly or avert their eyes politely.

Your days with Astarion were spent fighting side-by-side and teasing one another, and your nights were spent chatting and reading together. Aside from the physical intimacy and emotional vulnerability that came with being in a new relationship, it was really as if nothing had changed. And those were small prices to pay for where you currently found yourself: wrapped together with a trancing Astarion.

Ever since the Tiefling party, Astarion would worm his way into your tent at night. Whether he asked permission, or stayed a little too late into the night reading or talking or drinking from you; you would never ask him to leave. You’d slept together every night, sometimes beside each other, and other nights wrapped in each others’ arms. You were allowing Astarion to set the pace, as you were in no rush to get anywhere in particular. You simply enjoyed his company and his magnetic presence. 

The pair of you hadn’t been too intimate since the party, barring stolen and sometimes steamy kisses. That was plenty for you, and Astarion continued checking in to see if you were okay with his touches and advances. Whenever you assured him that you were, he’d smile and return to your lips. You never asked him for more than he was willing to give, and even though you knew he wouldn’t say anything about it, you could tell he appreciated the courtesy despite the smug mask he so often wore.

Now, you found yourself stroking your hands through his hair as he tranced on your bare chest, breathing quietly; a habit he told you he’d picked up to look more alive when prowling the Gate. 

It was funny, honestly, how sweet and unassuming he looked when he wasn’t fully conscious. And yet, you knew the kind of violence and debauchery and bad jokes he enacted and adored when he was awake. A small sound escaped his lips and you paused in caressing his hair to make sure you weren’t waking him. When his breathing returned to normal, you resumed raking your fingers soothingly over his scalp. 

The hour was a little before dawn. Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, knowing that today was the day your party would pack up camp and make your way into the Underdark for the foreseeable future. You’d re-emerge eventually to find the crèche Lae’zel knew to be nearby, but the Underdark was worth investigating for the sake of further answers about the tadpoles and a possible alternate route into the Shadow Cursed Lands. Plus, Shadowheart was adamant about seeing the rumored temple to Shar hidden down there.

All that to say, you and your companions wouldn’t be seeing the sun for quite a while. The thought saddened you immensely, knowing how much the man trancing on you would miss it terribly. How cruel, you thought, that your adventure was leading Astarion back into the shadows after he’d just gotten a taste of the sun for the first time in centuries. 

“Why are you awake, my darling?” came Astarion’s raspy voice from the dark. He shifted his head to look up at you, his grip around your midsection tightening a bit, his eyes heavy with grogginess.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “You should get a little more if you can.”

Astarion chuckled. “Too busy thinking about me to sleep? I wouldn’t blame you.”

You sighed. “And if I was?”

Astarion’s face fell a little. “Why the hells would you allow yourself to lose sleep on my behalf, pet?” His voice was soft and one of his hands unwrapped itself from your body, taking your hand, and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the back of your fingers. He cleared his throat. “I mean, obviously I can understand why,” he tried deflecting the sweetness that had seeped into his words by injecting his tone with fake bravado.

You let out an amused breath and allowed your hand in his hair to continue petting him gently. “I want to watch the sunrise with you again this morning.”

Astarion hummed. “And that kept you awake?”

“I didn’t want to oversleep.”

Now it was Astarion’s turn to let out an amused breath. “You could have asked. I would have woken you up.”

“No you wouldn’t, you keep letting me sleep in. It’s like you enjoy watching me sleep or something, you creep.” You poked his nose playfully.

“It’s just amazing how much drool someone of your stature can produce.”

You smacked the side of his head and he laughed softly. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a little while before you decided to speak again.

“This will be the last sunrise we see for a while.”

Astarion let out a long sigh and remained silent. After a moment, he said, “I know.” 

He sounded sad. 

“It’s not forever, though,” you assured, moving your hand to stroke his cheek and regaining his attention.

He chuckled. “I know that, too.”

You yawned, a little more loudly than you meant to. “Good. I promise you’ll see the sun again.”

Astarion tsked. “Honestly, darling, did you get no sleep at all?”

“I got a little,” you lied.

He held your gaze, lifting a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“What does it matter?” you asked, caught. “I can handle a little lack of sleep.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and sat up to look at you more directly. “It matters because we need you alert. None of us knows what awaits us in the Underdark and I- we can’t have you getting hurt because you didn’t get enough rest!”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured, bending upwards to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I’ll have you to protect me when I get sloppy.”

Astarion groaned. “You shouldn’t get sloppy,” he complained. “I swear, if you somehow hold us back down there, I’ll slaughter you myself.”

“Promise?”

He groaned again. “Would you, just once, allow me to threaten you seriously?”

“No,” you patted his cheek lovingly. 

He sighed and pushed some of his mussed hair out of his face. He took your hands in his. “Just… stay vigilant, alright?”

“Can do,” you said, withholding another obvious yawn.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

He shook his head at you and sat up fully, stretching his arms above his head and giving you a clear view of the scar on his back. You sat up and kissed his bare shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeated.

“Mhm.” Astarion passed you one of his shirts. “Come on, darling, let’s get a move on.” He tossed on a spare shirt and watched you as you pulled his shirt over your head. 

“There’s still a little time before sunrise,” you said.

Astarion snorted and fixed some of your hair that was sticking up from putting on his shirt. “You could stay here if you want. Drown in your own drool. Up to you.”

You huffed at him, making him laugh again.

“Only joking, my love.”

“Sure,” you said, opening the flaps of your tent and crawling out into the blue that preceded dawn.

You went to stand, but felt Astarion’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you back. He turned you slightly and caught your lips in a kiss, one that wiped away whatever fake ire you had towards him and replaced it with a dopey grin. 

“What was that for?” you asked when he pulled away.

“Delicious,” he breathed, raising a seductive eyebrow. 

You laughed and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

You’d only been able to catch two more sunrises with Astarion following the one you watched the morning after you’d slept together for the first time. You’d woken up once on your own after Astarion gently shifted himself away from you, and another time when he woke you up purposely, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. You’d whine and moan whenever he let you sleep in, despite the fact that it was probably for the best to keep you in tip top shape for fighting and recharging your magic. He’d always find his way back to you, and you knew he needed his own space sometimes, but you still loved to watch him bask in the golden light of the morning and you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed whenever you felt his gentle hand on your back before opening your eyes and seeing that the sun was already up.

Astarion led you through the forest again, his hand holding yours firmly. You knew your way to the ravine lookout by now, but you liked not having to take the lead for once. He helped you across the little stream that led into the clearing where you first laid together and you felt your cheeks flush at the memory.

“I can hear your heart picking up speed, darling.” He turned to smirk at you. “You’re adorable.”

“Pardon me for still being shy,” you half-joked.

“Mmm,” Astarion hummed. “I’ll pound that out of you eventually.” He furrowed his brow sensually at you and you scoffed.

“Shut up.”

“I, of course, don’t have to-”

You made a whiny sound and he laughed.

“I know, my love,” he said, removing his hand from yours and instead wrapping his arm around you to pull you close. “You’ve been so patient for me,” he nipped at your earlobe. “So good.” 

“I’m in no rush,” you reassured on a shaky exhale. 

Astarion made his own whiny sound and pulled you closer, leading you to the cliff’s edge where he’d opened up to you willingly for the first time, just a few days ago.

He sat, pulling you down with him, far enough away from the edge, where he knew you wouldn’t be nervous of falling. In the distance, the sky was just starting to indicate the sun’s arrival. 

You sighed happily and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him tense a little. “Is this alright?” 

Instead of answering, he leaned his head on top of yours. 

“What’s something you want to do in the Underdark?” you probed.

Astarion groaned. “You don’t need to make small talk with me, darling, sometimes silence is golden.”

You scrunched your nose, knowing he hated pure silence. “I wasn’t being polite, I genuinely wanted to know.”

He groaned again. “Even worse.”

You laughed lightly and felt him laugh too, his arm gently shaking against your own. 

He thought for a moment before he responded. “That Zhentarim fellow we met mentioned a cache of supplies hidden somewhere down there. That might be fun to pillage.”

You laughed. “I’m surprised you ever stopped thinking about that!”

“Oh I didn’t, but I wanted you to think your little thought experiment had actually evoked some sort of… thought… in me.” He made a face.

“Want to try and rephrase that?”

“Not particularly.”

You hummed fondly, taking one of his hands in your own and examining how your fingers slotted together just so. 

“I suppose you want me to ask you the same question?” Astarion asked, clearly not wanting to ask.

You laughed. “Your interest in my interests always astounds me, Astarion.”

He rubbed his cheek against the top of your head. “Get better interests and I might actually want to pay attention.”

“Rude,” you muttered, a smile on your face. “But since you so desperately want to know, I’ll answer anyway.”

“Oh, goodie.”

You thought about it. There wasn’t actually all that much you knew about the Underdark, aside from the few mentions of it in the books you’d read growing up. One thing did stick out in your mind.

“Singing mushrooms.”

“........What?”

“I read somewhere that apparently there are colonies of sentient mushroom people who communicate through song.”

Astarion pulled his head off of yours to hang it in front of himself instead, groaning loudly. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It’s not! It’s fascinating!”

“Sentient mushrooms?”

“Yes.”

“That sing?”

“Yes.”

Astarion shook his head. “Am I still asleep? Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m not making it up!” you exclaimed incredulously. When he didn’t say anything else, you crossed your arms in front of yourself. “We’re going to see the mushrooms.”

“Whatever you say, darling.” He kissed the top of your head almost pityingly. 

“You’re an ass,” you said, pulling away from him and sitting back on your forearms. The sky was turning a faint pinkish orange in the distance. You snickered to yourself. “More like Ass-starion.”

The ass in question scowled. “That will not be one of your pet names for me.”

You shrugged. “I’m surprised no one’s called you that before.”

“I’ve been called far worse.” Astarion tilted his head up pompously, as if nothing you could say would hurt him.

“Okay great, so ‘Ass’ is nothing new.”

He sighed heavily. “It’s like you want me to throw you off the cliff.”

“Go ahead,” you challenged, catching his eye mischievously, knowing his threat was empty. 

Astarion looked at you and then towards the horizon. He inhaled deeply and rose to his feet. 

“What are you doing?” you laughed nervously as he approached the cliff’s edge that gave way into the ravine below. 

He peered over the edge, his brow furrowed in deep thought. 

You shifted uncomfortably and sat up completely straight. “Astarion, please be careful, you’re making me nervous.”

He ignored you and walked along the edge, looking past a batch of trees and into the distance to your right. He nodded and turned back towards where you sat.

“Up you go,” Astarion approached you and gestured his thumb upwards, indicating that he wanted you to stand. When he reached you, he helped you to your feet.

“You’re not actually going to throw me off the cliff, are you?” You kept your tone playful, but the anxiety you were masking was obvious.

Astarion smirked. “Stop annoying me and I won’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and began to follow him as he started walking to the right, down a slanted slope and into a patch of trees. 

“What’s happening?” you asked when you caught up with him.

Astarion tilted his head. “I just thought an occasion such as this needed a change of scenery.”

“‘Occasion?’” you echoed.

He nodded. “It’s my last day in the sun-” he saw you about to protest and quickly added, “-for a little while. Might as well start the day off right.”

You hummed. “Why do I get the sense that you’re up to something?”

Astarion stopped in his tracks, a hand held to his unbeating heart in mock offense. “Me? Up to something? You’re far too paranoid, darling.”

“Uh huh.” You kept walking, but quickly realized you didn’t actually know where you were going. You looked back at Astarion for help and found him watching you. 

He rolled his eyes affectionately. “This way, dear, it’s not much farther.” He walked past you, deeper into the trees, and kept talking. “Did you know that that ravine we’ve been sitting above gives way into what I can only assume is either the Chianthar or the Sea of Swords?”

“I didn’t,” you said. “Though those are two very different bodies of water.”

“Give me a break, my geography lessons occurred well over 200 years ago. And we’re in the gods damn middle of nowhere, might I remind you.”

“Mhm,” you affirmed with a smile. “Go on.”

“Well, it just so happens that that ravine’s mouth isn’t far from our little sunrise spot.”

“‘Our?’” you teased.

“Focus, darling,” he said. He turned to the left, leading you back towards the cliff’s edge that had continued along the treeline.

“Astarion, please be careful,” you called after him, hesitantly following him towards the sound of rushing water. 

He turned back and held out a steadying hand for you as you approached the edge. Not too far below you were narrow rapids that gradually became calmer. The cliff that had been on the other side of the one you currently found yourself on had disappeared, forming a mouth where the ravine did in fact empty into a much larger, much calmer, body of water.

You wrapped your arms around Astarion’s middle to anchor yourself and leaned forward a little to see where the cliff you were on ended. A little farther down, you squinted to adjust your eyes to the dim lighting, and saw a tiny beach that quickly shot upwards into a new cliff. Rocks surrounded the shore, keeping it slightly out of view, and gentle waves lapped at the sand, far enough away from the rapids of the ravine to remain serene.

You caught Astarion’s eye and pointed towards the small patch of sand in the distance. “Is that where we’re going?”

Astarion pursed his lips. “Yes, that would be much easier than jumping in, wouldn’t it?”

You scoffed. “You expected me to jump in from this high up? There could be rocks we can’t see! And we don’t know how deep it is!”

Astarion sighed. “You’re no fun. Though I suppose you’re right, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” With your arms still around his middle, he started walking back into the trees and down towards the tiny beach. 

You laughed as he dragged you along. “You can’t possibly be serious. You’d get your hair all wet!”

“Nobody said I was going to jump in with you,” he teased.

“I’m not going in alone,” you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Pity,” he tutted. “I like it when you’re wet.” He smirked and you shoved yourself away from him. 

You picked up your pace to put distance between the two of you. When you didn’t hear his footsteps gaining on you, you decided to quickly slip behind a tree, hoping you’d lost him and that you’d be able to jump out to scare him as he sauntered past.

Unfortunately, nothing but silence greeted you. After a heartbeat or two, you peered around the trunk of your hiding spot but saw no sign of his sleek frame or shock of white hair. You started to second guess yourself; was it possible he’d passed you already? Or that he stopped, out of sight for some reason? 

“You’ll have to do better than that, darling,” came his voice softly next to your ear.

You yelped and clutched at your heart, which raced with surprise. 

Astarion sighed happily. “I do love the sound of your blood pumping.”

“How do you do that?” you asked, breathing deeply to calm yourself. 

“Years of practice.” He paused. “Centuries, even.”

You conceded with a nod. “I shouldn’t have even tried.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. The effort was hardly there, either.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes and continued on through the trees down to the beach.

“I mean honestly, have these weeks on the road with me taught you nothing about stealth?”

“I play music for a living. My job is making noise.”

“And I don’t know why I even try at this point.” He raised his eyebrows playfully.

“You like my noise,” you said, sing-songingly. 

“You’re loud, I’ll give you that.”

It was then that you emerged from the trees and onto a grassy dune that sloped downward onto the flat sand below. You slid down the dune with as much grace as you could muster, only falling on your ass once, before taking off your shoes and sinking your toes into the cool sand that made up the shoreline. Astarion followed after you, his long strides keeping him upright and as elegant as ever. He came to stand next to you, taking his own shoes off and placing them neatly beside yours.

You exhaled wistfully and grabbed Astarion’s bicep, leaning your head onto his shoulder. From here, you had a clear view of the sun on the horizon. The sky was a deep shade of pink, giving way to golds and oranges the closer you watched. You looked at Astarion, whose eyes were focused on the sunrise in the distance. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

Astarion looked over at you and blinked. Then he smiled. “Just that it’s truly a wonder you’ve made it this far in life.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, shocked and amused.

You could tell he was holding in a laugh. “You are inept at hiding and fall down sand dunes. What were we thinking when we started following you around Faerûn?”

“I’ll push you into the water, pretty boy.”

“I’d pull you in with me, my love.”

“Touché,” you smiled and released his arm, sitting on the sand. You pulled your legs to your chest and rested your cheek on your knee. Around you, reeds and tall grass swayed in the morning breeze. Astarion remained standing, watching the horizon. 

As much as you enjoyed watching the sunrise, you enjoyed watching Astarion watch it more. The way his attention became transfixed on the sky, the way the vibrant light painted itself onto him like a blank canvas, the way his entire body relaxed when the warmth of the sun finally reached his skin. 

You heard him sigh and watched as he walked forward a little, allowing the tiny waves rolling off the water to rush gently over his toes. He flinched a little in shock and you let out an affectionate breath through your nose.

“Cold?” you asked.

“You know, it’s funny,” Astarion said, his voice a million miles away. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to move through water like this.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow. “I’ve seen you in the lake at camp before.”

“I don’t know, I guess I haven’t given it too much thought until now. Normally, I can’t move through running water like this. Don’t ask me why, it’s one of those idiotic vampire laws dictated by some ancient devil with an infuriating sense of humor. I can bathe, sure, but I haven’t been proper swimming since… before.”

You stayed quiet as he moved further into the water, letting the waves wash over his ankles.

“I have to imagine I knew how to swim at one point,” he said quietly.

“I could teach you,” you offered. “I was going to teach Shadowheart at some point too. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

Astarion snorted. “And look like a fool in front of the cleric? I’ll pass.”

“You don’t need swim lessons to look like a fool,” you clarified. 

“Ha ha,” he said humorlessly. 

You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?”

Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly. 

“What?” you matched his smile.

Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.”

He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks. 

“Oh,” you said, stiffly watching him undress. “Should I-?” you awkwardly pulled at the collar of his shirt that was currently resting on your shoulders. 

He straightened, naked but for his underwear. He frowned a little. 

“You don’t have to do anything, my love. I just thought we might have some fun while watching the sunrise.”

You bit your bottom lip, thinking it over. “I do like fun.”

“I know that about you.” Astarion walked towards you and reached for the hem of your shirt. “May I?”

You nodded and lifted your arms to help. He took the shirt and tossed it over to where he’d discarded his own clothes. He stepped closer to you, pulling you to him so that you were chest to chest, and nuzzled his nose into the area where your neck met your shoulder. He placed a slow, gentle kiss there that had you inhaling sharply and exhaling unevenly. He groaned with need before pulling back and readjusting to kiss your lips. He came at it with more force than you were expecting, causing you to stumble back a little, but his hands firmly gripped your biceps, keeping you steady. You suppressed a giggle and instead smiled against his mouth before opening up for him and allowing his tongue to meet yours. Astarion hummed with pleasure, moving his mouth against yours and bringing his hands up to tangle in your hair. When he finally pulled away, he left one more chaste kiss against your lips before fully pulling back. 

His eyes were alight with something that morphed into joy when he saw the gooey grin on your face. He rolled his eyes affectionately before looking you up and down and exhaling a laugh.

“You are perfect,” he said, almost in awe.

You smiled. “When?”

Astarion pulled you closer, his eyes narrowing seductively. “Every time.”

You snickered and pulled away from him, a teasing grin plastered on his face. You bent to remove your own pants and watched to see what Astarion would do next. When you saw him reach for his underwear, you averted your eyes and heard him laugh.

“Nothing new over here, darling,” he said, and the soft splashing sounds that followed indicated he’d walked into the water.

“I know,” you replied, embarrassed. You turned back towards him and shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

“Well, cut it out,” he called, now knee deep in the water. His body was rigid from the temperature, his shoulders rising up to his ears. He turned back to look back at you, still standing on the shore. “Illmater’s blood-stained RACK, this is cold!” 

“I don’t know what you expected,” you called back, hugging your arms to your chest and trying to convince yourself to brave the frigid waters and join him.

“I rather expected you would be in here with me to keep me warm,” he said, turning back towards the sunrise ahead of him.

You quickly pulled off your underwear and started walking into the water, tensing at the cold, but willing yourself to keep going. 

“If you wanted my blood, you could have just asked,” you said when you finally reached him.

“There you are, darling,” Astarion said and grabbed your hand. 

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Brace yourself,” he tipped his head forward a little.

“What?”

Without warning, Astarion lowered himself into the water so that it was just below his shoulders, and pulled you down with him. You hadn’t expected to be yanked so forcefully and unsurprisingly lost your footing. You plunged downward, reaching your free hand out to break your fall and ended up dunking your face below the surface. You were submerged for less than a second, but you came up sputtering and made eye contact with a gleeful vampire. He sucked in his lips to keep from laughing.

“And what was that?” you asked blandly, flicking wet tendrils of hair out of your face.

“Apologies, darling, I didn’t mean for you to get your pretty hair all wet,” he pouted at you and sounded less than sympathetic. 

“Uh huh,” you narrowed your eyes at him. You crawled closer to him, made weightless by the water, and sat beside him, the water level reaching slightly higher on your chest than his. You scooted back a little and dragged your arm out behind you. You pushed it forward quickly, creating a splash that soaked the back of Astarion’s head. He instantly hunched forward and yelped. 

“How dare you?!” he exclaimed, his curls flattening and falling partially into his face. 

“Whoops,” you shrugged. Your eyes widened when you saw him wind his own arm back in retaliation and quickly dunked your head below the surface to avoid his onslaught of water.

When you reemerged, you heard Astarion snicker.

“Look at that,” he said, his tone mocking, “you’re all wet for me.”

You wasted no time in splashing him directly in the face.

“Let’s not do this,” he said flatly, his eyes closed. He brought his hands up to wipe the water off his face, even though his hands were equally wet.

“But now you’re all wet for me,” you teased. 

“I’ll show you what I am,” Astarion growled and took your hand underwater. He pulled you closer and led your hand to his cock, which was already rigid with desire, despite the temperature of the water. 

You made eye contact with him as you started pumping your hand up and down his shaft and he hissed out a breath. 

“Easy, darling,” he said shakily. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, close to his ear. “Don’t you want to cum while watching the sunrise?”

Astarion groaned and you moved your hand up to swipe your thumb across his tip and then back down to continue pumping. You lifted your weightless body up and swung your leg around so that you were sitting between his legs, facing him head on with the sunrise at your back. 

“I know what would make you even harder,” you cooed, wiping wet hair out of his face with your free hand. Instead of finishing the thought, you tilted your head to the side, offering up your neck to him. 

Astarion’s eyes, half lidded with lust, went wide and looked at you. You nodded to him, and he pulled you closer to his chest, kissing your throat feverishly upon contact. Your hand was still wedged between your legs, twisting around Astarion’s length. He moaned as he nosed along your throat for where your pulse thrummed the strongest.

“Thank you,” he said before sinking his fangs into you. 

You let out a moan of your own, your mouth falling open as goosebumps broke out along your arms. The cold water mixed with the ice in your veins created a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. The hand pumping Astarion’s length started to slow as you felt yourself focusing instead on the satisfyingly dull thrum that came with him drinking from you. 

“Don’t stop,” he murmured against your skin, kissing your throat and licking a few wayward drops of blood that had escaped before returning to his meal.

You made a noise of affirmation and squeezed his dick before continuing to twist your hand up and down, from base to tip and back down again. 

Astarion whined lamely and dug his nails into your scalp and shoulder, which in turn made you moan wantonly. You rolled your hips, trying to find some relief of your own and ended up brushing your clit against the base of his cock. You both groaned in pleasure and you brought your free hand up to tangle into his hair as you continued rolling your hips. 

“Hah,” Astarion huffed sweetly as he pulled himself away from your throat, his cool breath made warm by your blood. He licked at the wounds he left behind and kissed them gratefully before angling his head to kiss your mouth deeply.

The metallic tang of your blood on his tongue sent a chill through your body and you opened your eyes when you felt Astarion’s hands make their way to your hips. You broke the kiss to give him a curious look. 

He returned your look with a blissed out smirk. “I want you to ride me,” he drawled. 

Your eyes widened and the hand that was still working his cock slowed to a stop. 

He surged forward to kiss you again and moved his hands to your ass, where he lifted your weightless form to position you over his length. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I thought I was close to getting you off.”

“You were, sweet girl, but I’d much rather finish inside, if it’s all the same to you.”

Your lips quirked up. “I think we can make that work.”

Taking his cock into your hand again, you guided the head to your entrance before sinking down on him slowly. Astarion’s eyes closed in satisfaction and he tipped his head up to the sky, golden light painting his beautiful face into something ethereal. You sucked in a breath and rested your forehead on his shoulder, taking a second to adjust to this new sensation. You hadn’t ridden him yet, nor had you ever fooled around in water, by yourself or otherwise. 

Astarion kissed your ear before encouraging you: “Use me, my love. You’re deliciously warm.”

You nodded and tested lifting yourself up a little and bringing yourself back down. Your mouth dropped open and you adjusted your legs so you were resting on your knees, making it easier to bob on his dick. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you lifted yourself higher and brought yourself down with more force.

“That’s it,” Astarion cooed, “take your pleasure from me.”

“Touch me,” you whined, rolling your hips and picking up the pace of your bouncing.

“With pleasure,” he bent forward to kiss your neck, bringing his hand down to circle your clit. His other hand came up to squeeze your breast. 

“You make me feel so good,” you sighed, raking your nails over the ridges on his back.

“The feeling is mutual, d-arling,” his voice caught when you brought yourself down on his cock. “And I’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” he grazed his fangs across your collarbone. 

“I don’t know,” you said, your body shuddering with euphoria, “Halsin seems like he could give you a run for your money.”

Astarion raised a disbelieving eyebrow at you.

“Teasing, my love,” you kissed him softly before letting out a loud “Ah!” when he started raising his hips to meet yours.

“Oh really?” he asked, his voice coming out like a growl. “You think Halsin could fuck you as well as I can?”

“Hah,” you half laughed, half moaned. “I think technically, in this position, I’m fucking you?” A lopsided grin graced your lips. “But I don’t know, I’m new to all this.”

“Funny,” Astarion remarked sarcastically and pulled his hand away from your clit, making you whimper in protest. 

“Hey!”

“Take it back.”

“Take what back? I already said I was teasing!”

“Say I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

You smiled, panting and still riding him beneath the surface of the water. “Are you jealous or something?”

“Hardly,” he rolled his eyes. “But you’re mine and it wouldn’t kill you to remind yourself of that.”

“Sounds an awful lot like jealousy to me.”

Astarion groaned in what sounded like frustration and pleasure. “Do you want to cum or not?” 

You leaned forward and kissed him deeply, moving your mouth slowly in time with the rhythm of your hips. When you pulled away, a string of saliva connected you to his lower lip. 

“Astarion,” you said softly, “I don’t ever want anyone else to fuck me. Only you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

The smirk on Astarion’s face was smug. “Because?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because I’m yours, you stupid bat.” You kissed him, then whispered conspiratorially, “And I like you the most out of everyone at camp.”

“You flatter me,” Astarion said, immediately returning to his ministrations on your clit. You gasped at the contact, which quickly morphed into a moan of delight as you rested your forehead on his shoulder again. His hips rose to meet yours once more and the moan he let out as a result sounded as if he’d been holding it in for a while. Perhaps it was to sound eloquent during your back and forth, but the noise was music to your ears.

“Am I making you feel good?” you asked a little shyly.

Astarion opened one of his eyes to look at you. “My sweet, you’ve only ever made me feel good.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“It’s not, but it is true about the sex.”

“Thank the gods,” you laughed, though you shut your eyes tightly when Astarion hit a particularly pleasant spot inside you with a roll of his hips. “Whatever you just hit felt heavenly,” you relayed to him.

“Good to know,” he said mischievously, and repositioned you on his lap so he could rise to meet that spot every time you sank down on him. 

“Oh, Astarion,” you sighed, a grin overtaking your features.

“You like that, love?” he nipped at your shoulder. 

“Yes,” you sighed again.

Your bounces on his cock were starting to become sloppy as the knot of your climax began to build low in your stomach. You moved your hand to his and reversed the direction he was currently circling your clit.

“I’m close,” you confessed.

“Thank the gods, so am I,” Astarion’s voice was strained.

You opened your eyes to watch him as he approached his own peak and exhaled dreamily at the sight of him, bathed in the orange glow of the sun which was now halfway risen. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, “and I like you so much.”

“Don’t make me throw up when I’m trying to cum,” he opened up an eye and smirked at you. “You’re not half bad yourself, gorgeous thing.” He groaned when you sat back down on him forcefully. “Now, would you cum for me already? I’m dying here.”

“Almost there,” you laughed. “And you’re dead already.”

“You’re making this very difficult, darling.”

“Let me help you then,” you said, reaching a hand forward and lightly caressing his balls.

Astarion’s mouth hung open in silent pleasure, his fangs glistening in the emerging sunshine. He watched you wordlessly as you leaned forward.

“You’re so powerful,” you purred next to his ear. “You make me feel so good, and you’re the only one who can fuck me this well. The others will never know how good I feel because I’m yours and I’ll only ever be yours. You’re the only one who will ever be inside of me.”

“That’s right,” he groaned. “Your cunt is mine and I love the way it feels around me. The way it grips me so tight. You filthy thing, letting a vampire take your innocence. I could have killed you and instead I brought you the most pleasure you’ve ever felt. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Astarion, please. Need to feel your cum in me.”

“You want this cock forever, darling? Prove it. Prove you want it by cumming for me and screaming my name.”

His command brought you to your peak and you wailed out in pure ecstasy. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, over and over, and your cunt gripped him like a vice, as if claiming it for itself. In return, Astarion groaned loudly and spilled inside of you, moaning your name repeatedly and throwing his head back in rapture and delight.

As you came down from your high, you leaned forward to place sloppy kisses on his exposed throat. He brought both his arms around you and pulled you closer as he returned from his climax. 

“You are-” he didn’t finish his sentence before crushing his lips into yours, moaning pathetically and you giggled in response. He bit your bottom lip with his blunt front teeth before releasing it and peppering kisses along your cheeks and jaw. 

“Go on,” you teased, encouraging him to finish his thought.

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but instead gave in and said, “You’re wonderful.”

The words caught you off guard and you bent forward to kiss him in a way that you hoped conveyed your gratitude. 

“I think you’re wonderful, too.”

“Obviously,” Astarion smirked.

You pushed him backwards, causing him to slip and submerge his head fully underwater briefly.

“My hair was just starting to dry, you wretched beast!” he sputtered, looking appalled. 

“Aw, but you’re so pretty like this!” You brushed some wet hair out of his eyes.

“Um, hello? I’m always pretty, darling.”

“Ah, you’re right, how could I forget.” You gingerly lifted yourself off of Astarion and floated yourself to sit beside him, facing the sunrise. 

“Perhaps you’ve had the lovely head of yours hit in battle one too many times.”

“That must be it,” you agreed jokingly, resting your head on his shoulder. 

He leaned his head on top of yours in return. You sighed happily, enjoying the vibrant hues of the sky above, still filled with the euphoria of your high and the presence of the man beside you.

“I really do like you, so much,” you said softly, accompanied by the quiet lapping of the waves on the shore nearby.

“Ugh,” Astarion groaned. “Let’s not get sentimental, darling. After we just had such an excellent time together.”

You laughed. “Pardon me for wanting to express my feelings.”

“You are pardoned.” He gave you a sideways smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Magistrate.”

“Of course, beloved citizen.”

You both laughed quietly and returned to a pleasant silence. The sun rose steadily up into the sky and you knew you’d have to head back to camp soon to help pack up, but for now, you were content to sit and watch the horizon with your favorite traveling companion. 

“How are you doing that?” Astarion asked, breaking the silence.

“Doing what?”

“Tickling my thighs. Did you cast mage hand or something of the sort?”

You sat up a bit more to look and snorted. 

“Astarion, my love, I think it’s a fish that’s tickling you.”

“Ah,” he said calmly. Then he shot up, flinging you backwards and underwater. When you came up for air, he was rushing towards the shore, barreling through the water.

“At least it had the decency to wait until we were finished!” you called after him.

Astarion ignored you. “Slimy, disgusting, vile creatures!” He shook out his entire body as if he couldn’t rid himself of the sensation.

You watched him with adoration as he muttered to himself about how irredeemable that particular fish was as he pulled on his pants. It was then that you felt your heart swell with something big and alarming.

Oh no.

You were in love with him. 

Fuck!

[ninibeingdelulu]

His biggest fan ✧

Plot: You’re Michael’s girlfriend, cheering him at one of his games.

A/N: It’s so bad I hate it😓

The roar of thunderous cheers flooded the stadium as Michael unleashed another stupefying display of lethal precision and brute physicality that defied mortal comprehension.

You watched with breathless awe seated front row as that signature blue mohawk wove a hypnotic cyclone of calculated ferocity carving apart the helpless defense trailing hopelessly in his wake.

Each savage yet eerily choreographed burst from Michael's heavyweight strides reverberated across the pitch warping the boundaries of space and time itself directly proportional to his gravitational soccer supremacy.

Until the entire cosmos distilled into that infinite singularity split-second with just your striker boyfriend, the ball and the yawning maw of the goal awaiting its inevitable oblation.

You bit down hard stifling the visceral shudder trying to escape as Michael's rocket-powered thunderbolt smashed past the defenseless keeper and ignited the back of the net in a blaze of cosmic glory.

Celebrating with that bone-chilling sovereign roar staking his unchallengeable dominion once more before this mortal realm of sporting conquest still so far beneath his transcendent plane of greatness.

Even after the final whistle sounded you remained spellbound observing Michael bask in those rapturous post-coital moments savoring his ineffable feat.

Utterly transfixed upon the hyper-masculine sculpture of your man still slicked with the spoils of carnal supremacy while casting that chiseled nordic profile against the floodlit heavens he reigned sovereign over.

Until his peripheral laser focus abruptly snapped in your direction lancing directly through your aura with a telepathic tractor beam manifesting into actual physics-warping forces.

Almost like each molecule surrounding Michael compressed and bent inward before being shunted aside clearing his path towards you with terrifying inevitability.

You barely had a chance to brace yourself as the unstoppable tsunami slammed into your front row section without mercy or resistance.

The concussive shockwave blasting through your senses while those titanium bulwarks materialized around you scooping your diminutive frame against Michael's furnace-stoked musculature with crushing intensity.

"My sweet empress…I could only hear your voice back there. It motivated me, thank you.”

His rough-hewn bassline resonated against every nerve ending vibrating at some untapped primordial stratum while you strained to surface through the endless whitenoise overloading your synapses.

Only Michael's low gravitic pulses penetrating the oblivion flooding your faculties from that unholy cosmic union now peeling away every layer keeping you distinct individualities during submersion into this event horizon state of indistinguishable polarities collapsed together.

Until finally resurfacing from that singularity after an eternity compressed into nanoseconds - though still deliriously consumed by the aftershocks rippling across your intertwined vessels smoldering in the embers of rapturous conflagration yet still ravenous for more extreme escalations eternally rebirthing from the expended remains!

Only the roaring crescendos from those frenzied supporters still filling the stadium slowly penetrated the vacuous void reverberating between you both savoring that suspended infinitesimal post-orgasmic bliss together.

You felt Michael's stern facade gradually reassemble while withdrawing from your interiors just fractionally enough to restore individuation-yet sense his alpha dominion expanding throughout your reconstituted synaptic matrices cementing his reign over your fused polarities once more.

Then with a subtle shift his smokey granite stare cleaved directly through the veil drawing your reawakened senses under that spellbinding trance spellbinding instantly.

A hushed imperious rasp now caressing your essence from that primal domain where all worldly laws bent to his sovereign decrees:

"Why don’t I reward you tonight, huh, meine liebe ?”

Just experiencing the infinitesimal microcosm of his supreme essence bleeding into your rematerialized corporeal vessel already whiplashed your senses through multiple clinical deaths and resurrections beyond this plane's dimensional limits.

His seismic vibrational frequencies triggered endorphin avalanches detonating every neurotransmitter into frenzied paroxysms anticipating the ineffable escalations still awaiting together...

[mitsuristoleme]

hope i never lose you

pairing: gojo satoru x geto suguru x reader

cw: post the events of hidden inventory but pre kfc breakup, implications of depression, mentions of death/almost dying, mention but not graphic description of blood, thoughts of killing/genocide by suguru, arguments, crying/breakdowns, they’re all whipped, hurt/comfort, smut, oral sex (male receiving), 4.5k words (this was NOT supposed to be this long but woohoo??)

part of my au- This Side of Paradise

for more from this au check out my masterlist

It was 3AM when you finally dragged your exhausted body to your dorm room.

Ever since Amanai’s death (or as the higher ups called it “the incident with the Star Plasma Vessel), you and your boyfriends, Satoru and Suguru, were being worked to the bone, a new mission popping up seemingly every few hours.

All three of you had been promoted to special grades and the pressure was unreal. Missions that should have been handled by adults with more experience were being handed off to you in view of your “superior abilities”.

You didn’t remember the last time the three of you had even seen each other for longer than 30 minutes. You missed them. Terribly.

Most of the measly time you were together was spent doing mandated training to hone Satoru’s Limitless. To help him step into his role as ‘The Strongest’.

You were tired. So tired.

Not to mention the nightmares plaguing your mind every night. Satoru’s head dismembered from his body, him never having the epiphany that led him to acquire reverse cursed technique. Suguru’s chest cleaved open, him never making it to Shoko. And you, bleeding out from the slash in your stomach before ever making it to any of them.

You’d been waking up in tears streaming down your face for days, the image of the lifeless bodies of your boyfriends seared into your mind like a brand.

Kicking off your shoes, your eyes roved over the room, a habit you’d developed after the man who killed Amanai broke into the Jujutsu High barrier.

Wow, you’d really let it get messy.

Your hands stopped halfway through unbuttoning your uniform jacket as you realised you weren’t in your room. Muscle memory had apparently led you right into Suguru’s dorm room.

His door wasn’t locked? Strange.

He wasn’t in bed? Even stranger. Normally Suguru was very particular about his beauty sleep.

Why was his room a mess?

Panic clutched at your heart, fear digging in its sharp claws, your pulse pounding loudly in your ears. Your legs hurriedly moved of their own accord as you threw back his sheets in the hope that he was there. Not gone. He was still here, right? He had to be.

No.

No?

nononononononononononononono.

“Y/N? What’re you doing here?”

Suguru’s voice dragged you out of your panicked rush of thoughts.

“Oh my god, you’re alive,” you choked out, reaching for him to pull him against you, a physical reassurance to yourself that he was still there. That your nightmares weren’t true.

“I-“ his arms looped around your waist hesitantly, “Of course I am. Are you alright?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, nodding against where your face was buried into his bare shoulder.

Wait…

“Why are you naked?” you inquired, eyeing the towel covering his lower body. Why did he look so weak?

Your hands moved to gently cup his face, “Sweetheart, have you been eating? You don’t look okay.”

Suguru flinched at your touch, looking like a deer trapped in headlights and for the first time in the year and a half you had been dating him, you saw Geto Suguru at a loss for words.

He squirmed in place letting your concerned eyes trail over his greasy barely-taken-care-of hair, his red, puffy eyes and his dark circles.

“Sugu…”

Before you could voice any further concern, the door to the room was flying open to reveal an incredibly disheveled Satoru, his cheek dripping with blood.

There was a tense moment where the three of you stared at each other until Satoru came barrelling towards the two of you, engulfing you into his lanky arms.

A light ‘oomph’ escaped Suguru’s mouth as his knees buckled and he face planted right into Satoru’s chest.

“You’ve got blood on you,” you mumbled into Satoru’s uniform. He hummed in acknowledgment, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss to your head, another one to Suguru’s bare shoulder.

“‘S not mine,” he said simply, offering no further explanation. His hand slipped under your uniform shirt to rub at the small of your back, the other one lazily moving to scratch Suguru’s scalp. “Why’re you naked Sugu?”

Suguru lazily raised his eyes to meet your blue eyed boyfriend’s gaze from where he’d basically melted into his side, “Jus’ took a shower.”

“Yeah? Then why’s your hair all greasy and stinky?”

“No reason,” the raven snapped, his posture stiffening as he moved to pull away from the hug. His tone was sharp. Nothing like you’d ever heard him use with you or Satoru before.

Satoru took off his glasses and tossed them onto the bed before narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend, “C’mon your hair is the love of your life, babe. You never let it get this dirty.”

“I just told you it’s nothing! God!”

Suguru angrily stomped his way to his closet, pulling on a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers, tossing his towel to a random corner of the room.

“You never do that either,” you said gently, your voice soft, trying to maintain a level tone.

“Can you two stop? I’m fine! Maybe I’m just tired this late at night!” His hands tore through his hair in frustration, the grease making his hair stick back onto his scalp.

Satoru moved across the room, grabbed Suguru’s jaw and forced his boyfriend to meet his glowing blue eyes.

“Something’s wrong.”

A defeated sigh.

“I told you nothin-“

“Tell me what's wrong.”

“Satoru noth-“

“BULLSHIT!” Satoru roared, making Suguru violently flinch in his hold.

Silence. Deafening silence.

Fearing this was the calm before a much bigger storm, you decided to step in, slipping between them to loosen your white haired boyfriend’s iron grip on his counterpart’s jaw.

“You’re hurting him ‘Toru,” you whispered, keeping your voice low, scared that anything louder might spark further conflict.

Blankly, he nodded, withdrawing his hands from Suguru’s face, gently placing them around your hips instead. You shot him a small smile, reaching up to affectionately scratch his undercut, drawing a pleased sound from him before you turned back to your long haired lover.

You cupped his face, running your knuckles over where red marks the shape of Satoru’s fingers had started forming.

“Talk to us, Sugu. We’re worried about you, baby,” you beseeched. “Please.”

That seemed to break him, his expression crumpling as he let out a shaky breath.

“I just-“ is all he could let out in a choked whisper before he broke down in front of you.

His head dipped down, his chin pressing into his chest, his shoulders shaking from his heaving sobs, his body curling into itself as if he wanted to hide away.

“Suguru,” Satoru mumbled from behind you, concern laced through his voice, his hands reaching to cup his boyfriend’s face, taking care to be gentle after his earlier outburst, his large hands supporting the raven’s face from below, fingers gently swiping at his tears.

Blue eyes flicked down to meet your own worried ones, a silent communication passing between you both as you slipped out from between the two boys and pressed your torso against Suguru’s back, your arms wrapping around his waist in silent comfort.

Meanwhile Satoru had gathered his dark haired lover into his arms, supporting the brunt of his body weight, letting him cry onto his rumpled uniform jacket.

Sandwiched between both of your bodies, Suguru shook violently with sobs, a part of you worried if he could breathe, a sentiment clearly echoed by Satoru. You watched as he tangled one of his hands in your boyfriend’s hair, his fingers moving to lightly scratch at his scalp.

“You need to breathe baby,” he gently reminded Suguru. “C’mon, deep breaths with me, yeah?”

You pulled away from your koala grasp on your boyfriend, instead rubbing his back comfortingly as he gulped down shaky bouts of air through his mouth and nose, tears still streaming down his face.

Frowning, you reached up to wipe his tears off his face, your hand coming away wet as if you had just washed it. Your lower lip wobbled, heart twisting seeing one of the loves of your life in so much distress.

Ever so observant with his keen eyes, Satoru had already loosened one of his arms from around Suguru’s waist and tugged you into the hug.

“Don’t you start,” he mumbled, trying to force his usual playfulness in the jest. He was just as tired as you and Suguru were, taking on mission upon mission, sometimes even forcing the higher ups to give him missions that should’ve been given to either of his partners, not that you knew this. But you knew he was tired and joking, so you said nothing.

The three of you stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other, your hearts thumping wildly, as Suguru’s sobs died down into soft sniffles, his hand reaching up to wipe a stray tear from your face before his arms looped around you and Satoru.

“‘M sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy, presumably from all the crying.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you replied instantly. “We’ve all been stressed, you don’t have to apologise fo-“

“What's the point?” he interrupted, his tone defeated, “What's the point of us working our asses to the ground to exorcise curses when those- those monkeys are gonna make new ones anyway?”

“Sugu-“

“I’m tired of fighting for people who just create their own problems. Maybe non sorcerers just shouldn’t exist.”

Satoru gaped at him, eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, trying to figure out what to say.

“You don’t mean that,” he finally said lamely.

“Don’t I? Just put yourself in my position, Satoru. Do you know how horrible ingesting curses is? And I do all that, every. Single. Fucking. Day. Only to find some psycho with no cursed energy almost kill me and my partners!”

You pulled away to look him in the eyes, “And that's a good reason to kill all non sorcerers? You’ve always believed in not killing without any meaning. Where’s the meaning in getting rid of a population of innocent people?”

“I wouldn’t call them innocent.”

“What about your parents? They not innocent either?” Satoru jumped in, his tone accusatory.

Suguru hesitated, his eyes flicking between the two of you and the ground, “I… don’t know.”

“You hesitated. That’s your answer.”

“It’s really not.”

“You can’t just kill millions of people just because they’re not like us.”

“…”

“Suguru.”

Satoru looked at you, his eyes swimming with uncertainty and fear at the sudden cult propaganda like stuff your shared boyfriend had started spewing.

You sighed, “You know Suguru, you’re not the only one who saw your partners almost die.”

“What?”

“You said earlier, you saw me and ‘Toru get killed by a non sorcerer. You’re not the only one who did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw both of you. Almost die I mean. Almost died myself too.”

“Y/n-“

“I’ve been having nightmares, you know? Every night. You both-'' you paused, your breath hitching in your throat, tears prickling your eyes. Satoru wrapped his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you close to him as if saying, ‘it’s okay, we’re here’.

You took a shuddering breath before continuing, “You both die. Bleed out. And I do too. Before I ever reach you. Before I get to see you for the last time. And I know it's not the time to bring this up but I-“

The rest of your sentence was cut off by the lump in your throat swelling, your eyes welling up with tears.

Suguru’s hands were on your face immediately, wiping off tears before they even fell. Satoru pulled you tighter against him, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Hey,” Suguru whispered against the shell of your ear, his breath skirting across the side of your face, “We’re here, okay? We’re here and we’re alright baby. We gotchu, yeah?”

You nodded, burrowing your face into Satoru’s chest, letting the warmth from both of your boyfriends caging you between them wash over you. They were your anchors, pulling you back to reality when the storm of life got too difficult to bear. They were your home.

“You’re both my home too,” Satoru mumbled sheepishly, almost too quiet for you to hear.

“Did I-“

“You said it out loud.”

“Oh.”

“You’re my home too,” Suguru sighed out letting his head fall onto Satoru’s, his eyebags looking more prominent when he closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

Satoru shifted slightly, “Let’s get into bed hmm? You both look like you need some serious sleep. And honestly? Same.”

The weight of the exhaustion of the past few days suddenly hit you like a truck, your limbs going weak and heavy between the strongest duo.

You glared at Satoru through bleary eyes, “Are you a witch?”

“Eh??? Where is this coming from??”

“You said we probably need some serious sleep and now I’m tired. You’re a witch and you-“ yawn “You cursed me to feel sleepy.”

“Baby it’s like half past three. You’re sleepy because you’ve been awake for like 24 hours.”

“…I still think you’re a witch.”

Satoru’s mouth opened to form a what would be a smart retort but he was interrupted by Suguru smoothly slapping a hand over his mouth, pushing you slightly towards the twin bed, “Alright before you start trying to burn the guy who funds all our food runs at the stake, let’s get into bed yeah?”

“Is that all I am to you?! A wallet?!”

“No you’re our sugar daddy. It’s the only reason we tolerate you. Ain’t that right babe?”

You looked at him, eyes sparkling with playful mirth, the humour returning to the raven’s voice filling you with an unspeakable amount of relief.

“Yep.”

“You’re both so mean to me!”

“Hush now, pretty boy.”

The three of you squeezed into the small bed meant for one person, as always: Suguru’s chest pressed into your back, your head resting against Satoru’s shoulder, three pairs of legs tangling with each other until you couldn’t tell where one of you ended and the other began.

“We’re still in uniform,” you sighed out, dreading the prospect of leaving the tangle of warmth to change.

Satoru yawned. “Mmh it’s fine. Ya don’t mind, do you Sugu?”

“You have blood on you, dumbass.”

A dramatic whine. “Ugh fine.” A smirk. “Stay here and strip lovely, I’ll get that t-shirt you like from emo boy’s closet.”

“Perv.” You tossed a pillow at him but got down to removing your uniform anyway.

Fiddling with the last few buttons, you peeled off your partially open uniform jacket, putting it next to you. You would take it, along with the rest of your uniform, to the laundry basket in your room later.

Next to you, Suguru heaved a big sigh, fidgeting with the end of his shirt. “I’m not gonna do it,” he said quietly. “Genocide, I mean,” he continued a bit louder. “I just-“ he groaned, his hand running dragging down his face, “You guys just got me thinking. I’m not the only one who suffered that day. And killing off millions of people isn’t- Well it isn’t practical- Or moral. And you’re right y’know. I’ve never gotten behind killing without meaning.”

He went quiet again, his fingers continuing to nervously tug and twist at the hem of his shirt.

A tense silence filled the room.

Satoru stood in front of the closet, holding a wad of clothing, staring at his boyfriend.

Before you know it, the white haired boy is launching himself at Suguru, burying his face into the raven’s neck, “‘M sorry. ‘M sorry I never noticed that you were struggling. And I’m sorry I got mad and hurt you earlier.”

Suguru sighed, melting into his lover’s body, “‘S ok. I forgive you. You were just worried.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You watched the two boys soak in each other’s affection with fond eyes. They got on your nerves almost constantly but damn did you love them.

“Babe?” called Satoru.

You were met with the pouty faces of both your boys staring at you.

Suguru tilted his head from where Satoru had it cradled in his arms. God, he looked like a kicked puppy. “Do you not love us?”

You almost cooed because what the hell? Why was he so damn adorable?

“Of course I love you silly.”

“Then why didn’t you say it when the both of us did?” Satoru inquired, matching pouts with your shared boyfriend.

“Well-“ you sputtered, “You guys were having a moment! I didn’t wanna ruin it!”

You got no response. The two of them only stared at you, thoroughly unimpressed.

You laughed, “Okay, okay. I love you both.”

“Good,” they mumble in unison.

“Ugh you’re both so adorably stupid,” you muttered, jumping into the hug peppering aggressive kisses all over both their faces, each punctuated with a ‘I love you’.

By the 20th kiss, they were blushing, Suguru pushing you and Satoru off. “Change you two,” he admonished, “Stop getting curse gunk and blood on me.”

You laughed, pressing a final kiss to his forehead and heading off to the washroom to wash off your face, utterly unaware of two sets of enraptured eyes trained on your figure.

By the time you came out, Satoru had changed into one of Suguru’s large t-shirts and a pair of boxers. With his toned thighs on display and the smear of blood still on his cheek, he had never looked hotter to you.

“Y’re starin’ love,” he smirked.

“You’re starin’ love,” you mocked, pitching your voice lower in a horrendous attempt to sound like him. “Not my fucking fault you’re hot.”

He giggled. Yes. Giggled. Like a middle school girl. “Aw thanks babe,” he said as he batted his eyes at you, “Anyways, clothes are on the bed, next to our hot boyfriend. I’m gonna go get the blood off my face.” And with that and a little hairflip, he flounced off into the bathroom, shutting that door behind him.

“He’s such a menace,” you mumbled, moving towards the bed.

Chuckling Suguru shifted to sit up in bed, grabbing at your waist and tugging you closer to him. “Yeah, but we love him regardless.”

You hummed in agreement, letting your boyfriend’s hands wander across your lower back and ass, “I guess we do, don’t we?”

He tilted his head up to meet your eyes, his chin resting right below your sternum. “Wan’ help getting this off?” he inquired, tugging on the end of your shirt, his pupils blown wide.

“You know I never say no,” you mumbled.

A satisfied sound left his lips, his practiced hands moving to unbutton your shirt and tug down your pants in record breaking time.

“So pretty,” he whispered, pressing a kiss above your belly button.

A tingle of electricity shot through your spine at the contact, a pool of warmth settling low in your stomach as you wound your fingers into his long hair.

You frowned at the feeling of the grease he had let build up in his hair on your fingertips. “I’m gonna wash your hair tomorrow.”

“I’d really like that,” he whispered, hooking his arms behind your thighs and pulling you down into his lap, immediately pressing his lips to yours in a loving kiss.

You looped your arms around his neck, readjusting your hands to keep gently scratching his scalp.

Suguru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Sugu,” you gasped, pulling away for air, “I have to change.”

“Let me love on you baby," he replied, a little breathless, his hands running down your back. "Please?"

"Are you two canoodling without me?"

Your head shot towards the bathroom door, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were sitting on your boyfriend's lap, half naked, while your other boyfriend was staring at the both of you, failing to hide the very obvious bulge in his-or well- Suguru's boxers.

Suguru scowled at him, "We'll continue without you if you say 'canoodling' one more time."

"What's wrong with canoodling?"

"You're ruining the mood man!"

"I hate admitting you're right but I'd be lying if I said that the implication of you two 'canoodling' didn't make me just a little bit soft."

"Just come here and kiss me, idiot."

Satoru grinned at the command, crossing the room in two big steps to lace his fingers in Suguru's hair and smashing his lips onto his boyfriend's.

You laid your head on Suguru’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth, while you watched your boys devour each other’s mouths above you.

They broke apart, panting and faces flushed, looking at each other slightly dazed.

“Fuck,” Satoru rasped, “I forgot how good that felt.”

Suguru ran his fingers along his lips, still looking a bit out of it, “Yeah me too.”

“Now then,” grinned your white haired lover, his signature cheshire smirk on his lips, making grabby hands at you. “C’mere you.”

He dropped to his knees on front of the bed, his height allowing him to be face to face with you in Suguru’s lap. Grabbing your legs, he shifted you so you sat with your back to the raven’s chest, his hard on pressing against your ass.

Almost immediately, strong arms were wrapping around your waist from behind as Satoru slotted himself between yours and Suguru’s legs, hovering his lips above yours, just a hair’s breadth from touching yours.

“Kiss me baby,” he breathed, his breath fanning across your face.

You complied, throwing your arms around his neck, tugging him towards you as you ran your tongue along the seam of his lips.

He responded with just as much enthusiasm, his mouth hot against yours as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You let your hands wander, scratching his undercut the way you knew made him go wild, enjoying the way he let out a breathy moan against your lips.

Satoru’s hands joined Suguru on your waist, settling right below the edge of your bra, his fingers running along the edge of the fabric resting against your ribcage as he broke away from you to press searing open mouthed kisses along your jawline.

He shifted his attention from you to the beautiful man whose lap you were sitting in.

“Hey Suguru?” he called out.

“Hmm?”

“Can I suck your dick?”

Suguru gaped at him, mouth falling open, eyes wide. Satoru never asked for permission.

“What? I can be considerate, y'know!”

“I know… You just never…”

You ran your fingers along Suguru’s wrist, soothing his frazzled nerves, “Let us spoil you, Sugu? You’ve been stressing enough.”

And that was how you ended up holding Suguru’s upper body to your own, his back muscles flexing against your front, his shirt haphazardly thrown to some corner of the room as he quivered and moaned under his boyfriend’s ministrations.

“Satoru-“ the raven choked out, his head falling onto your shoulder, “So good- please-“

Satoru hummed around Suguru’s cock, bobbing his head, his cheeks hollowing, before pulling away with a lewd ‘pop’.

“Please what, hmm baby?” he questioned, his voice low and raspy, “Please stop?”

A frustrated sound ripped itself from Suguru’s throat, his hand clutching onto Satoru’s shirt before tugging him closer to his mouth.

“I meant to keep going and you know it. Brat.”

Satoru grinned, his signature cheshire smirk taking over his face as his eyes flickered from his black haired lover’s eyes to his mouth. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips along Suguru’s jawline.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

He slid down, settling back between his boyfriend’s legs. He wrapped his hand around the base of Suguru’s dick, pumping it once, twice and another time, before wrapping his lips around the tip and pushing his head down the entire length in one go.

A loud moan tore its way from Suguru’s mouth as his hands reached to bury themselves in Satoru’s hair, tugging on the glowing moonlight strands like they were his lifeline.

You gently ran your fingers along Suguru’s bare torso, tracing the muscles that you had long since committed to memory, pressing kisses to the back of his shoulders and neck.

“Y’look so pretty like this Sugu,” you whispered into the shell of his ear, relishing the way he shivered at the way your breath danced across his cheek.

A gasp left Suguru’s lips just as a slurping sound came from where Satoru was continuing to suck him off, his own hips rutting into the mattress, drool dribbling down his chin.

Suguru’s back arched off where it was pressed against your torso, his mouth dropping open the way it did when he was about to cum, “Fuck Satoru- ‘M so close.”

His abs clenched under your touch as he chanted your white haired lover’s name like a mantra.

“‘Toru- I’m gonna- gonna cum. I- inside or are you-?”

Satoru made an insistent sound around his cock, burying his nose into the dark hair at the base.

You chuckled, “I think that means he wants you to cum in his mouth.”

Satoru made a pleased noise of agreement in the back of his throat, his eyes looking up to gaze at you both.

“Fuck,” Suguru groaned out, “I’m cumming-“

His body tensed up as he reached his high, his cum spurting into Satoru’s mouth, dripping down the sides of his lips as he pulled himself off his boyfriend’s dick, swallowing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“God fuck Suguru, we need to get you eating fruits again. That tasted like battery acid.”

Suguru shifted to cuddle with you, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck, his eyelashes tickling your skin.

“I’ve been contemplating genocide, leave me alone. Y/n get him to stop bullying me.”

You giggled, rubbing soothing circles into his broad back, following it with a kiss pressed into his hairline, “Stop bullying my baby, ‘Toru.”

“Am I not your baby?!”

“Yes you are honey, c’mere,” you coaxed, holding your arms out for him.

He sidled up to you, settling into your side, letting his head rest on your shoulder.

Your eyes burned as you shifted to make yourself more comfortable under Suguru’s body weight. Satoru slid his arm around your shoulders, sliding you down so you were lying down with your dark haired lover still holding onto you like a koala.

Satoru moved to drape his arm over Suguru’s back and brushed a kiss over both of your cheekbones, “You guys got any missions tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Nope.”

He smiled, all soft lines and wrinkling nose, so unlike the cocky smirk he paraded around wearing, “Good. We can sleep in then. Maybe clean up Suguboo’s room while he gets some food.”

Suguru hummed, nuzzling his face into your chest. “Love you,” he whispered, his voice muffled against your skin, the words spoken so tentatively that you almost missed them.

“Love you, Suguru,” said Satoru, playfully sticking his tongue out, plopping his head down onto the pillow, “Even when your cum tastes like toxic waste.”

“Shut up.”

“Love you, dorks. Now let's just sleep please. I’m tired.”

The three of you fell asleep like that, your personal weighted blanket Suguru on top of you, Satoru holding the both of you from the side.

a/n: whewwwww! that was one of the most time consuming fics ive ever written. its been in the works for over a month i think. ive also never written a content warning so long😭. hope you guys enjoy this!

tagging- @forest-hashira @wifeyana and @strychnynegirl

[prismaticpichu]

The Zack & Sephiroth Friendship Timeline, According to Pichu

Just a random self-indulgent post based on my everlasting headcanons of these goobers <3

~~~

Timeline

• As a young tadpole in Gongaga, Zack discovers Sephiroth via the local newspaper, having caught sight of a glorified picture at the kitchen table. The spark to be a hero is born.

• At age 13, Zack leaves for SOLDIER; he is eventually adopted by Angeal, who keeps Zack’s awe alight by sharing stories and anecdotes about his time working with the famed silver warrior.

• Sephiroth, concurrently, is fed little tidbits of information about Angeal’s new student, is painted pictures of Zack’s jubilant spirit and puppyish nature. He immediately believes Zack to be childish and naive—even if a little curious. This “pup,” he thinks, is never going to make it in this big dog-eat-dog world.

• Angeal tells Sephiroth to take care of Zack, should anything happen to him. Sephirotn scoffs it off.

• Come Wutai, and Angeal is gone. So is Genesis. Sephiroth is left all alone, torn asunder over the the double betrayal. This is when he finally meets Zack, saving the distracted pup from Ifrit’s Hellfire, cleaving those furious flames in two as Sephiroth smites the summon himself. However, the marvel is short—and the gratitude even shorter. Tensions are high; Sephiroth’s on edge. And he takes his anger out on Zack, snapping at him to know where Angeal is. Zack is equally quick to raise his voice at the… the cold-hearted warrior, incredulous that he would accuse his so-called friend of betraying them—and affirming Sephiroth’s perception of him as a naive, moronic child. Things are off to a rocky start.

• Weeks pass without Angeal’s return. Zack’s hope begins to wane, but he refuses to let it fade entirely. He’s also promoted to First Class at this time; Sephiroth is the only one who joins Zack in Lazard’s office.

• Genesis clones attack the base thereafter. Zack & Sephiroth are ordered to work together, and the younger First is surprised at just how much… synergy the two of the seem to have. Not once do they trip over each other while fighting; they instinctively cover each other’s blind spots; they fight side by side, like a team, despite the wisps of vitriol that still linger in the air between them. Sephiroth senses the same, if not impressed with the Firsts’s combat prowess.

• On the same day, en route to Hollander’s lab, Sephiroth feels something inside of him splinter; a wounded part of him that needs to be heard, that craves for an ear that would understand. And he can’t articulate why, but he just begins to speak, to open his heart as he leans over the railing, to vent about the training room incident and all that had sparked from his selfish, idiotic, arrogance…

• And it’s there, listening attentively to Sephiroth tear himself up, that Zack’s venom turns to understanding

• Zack and Sephiroth hang out more and more during this time, their friendship truly beginning to blossom. Zack begins shortening Sephiroth’s name; Sephiroth begins inviting Zack into his home. And for the first time in a long while, things feel stable. Safe. Comforting…

• Modeoheim hits; Angeal’s funeral is brief. It would have been longer, maybe, if either one of them bothered to stay longer than ten minutes. Seeing Sephiroth storm out after such a short amount of time, Zack follows suit… Only to push Sephiroth against the corridor wall, seething, mako-blue eyes ablaze with fury as he GLARED into the worthless, weak, cowardly…. pathetic warrior’s soul, burning tears beginning to streak down his cheeks in the process. He’s furious that Sephiroth didn’t come to Modeoheim with him; he’s furious that he refused the mission; he’s furious that all he does is hide, avoid… He’s furious that he ever, EVER considered him to be a worthy friend, let alone anything resembling even the faintest ghost of a hero—

• Sephiroth slaps him, right on his still-healing scar, and sends the young SOLDIER tumbling to the ground.

• Zack calls him a monster; he rushes away

~

• Weeks later, Zack is sobbing in his lonely First Class apartment, broken and beaten from all that had imploded in the company. His dreams feel crushes; he doesn’t know if they were ever attainable; he doesn’t know what to do anymore, where to go, how he could still wield the worm and torn Buster Sword…!—

• Sephiroth walks in, needing to deliver a paper to Zack, having taken over Lazard’s place after the man’s desertion. He’d fallen into absolute tatters since their incident after the funeral, and seeing Zack’s state seemed to break the last piece of resistance he had left. He remembers Angeal’s promise; he remembers being told, with words so distant and sincere now, to take care of the young pup should anything happen to him… And now, staring at the young First curled up on the couch—a small, vulnerable teenager…—he wants nothing more than to make Zack’s pain go away.

• He pulls Zack into his arms, holding the sobbing First close; Zack burrows into him, apologizing profusely, apologizing wholeheartedly. Sephiroth apologizes too

• And promises to always keep him safe.

~

• Their friendship burgeons and blossoms from here on out, stronger than it had ever been. Zack spends more nights at Sephiroth’s than he ever has; Sephiroth cooks Zack his favorite meals almost every night; Zack begins to smile again, talking about Aerith and Cloud and all his other buddies, beginning to enjoy life again…; Sephiroth, meanwhile, begins to eat again. His sleep schedule is mended, thanks to Zack’s gentle nudging—and, of course, their countless sleepovers. Zack is promoted to Seph’s second-in-command, spending every day in the office with him, working side-by-side—on and off missions. They do everything together… and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

• It’s time to leave for Nibelheim.

~

• They go to the Reactor; Genesis spews what he spews, destroying Sephiroth’s soul, feeding poison into his brain. His cells are activated; Jenova begins worming into his mind, twisting his thoughts. She’s the reason that Sephiroth has a sudden act or aggression, when the calm, concerned hand comes down on his shoulder, when the kind, worried “Hey, Sephiroth..!” comes shouting from behind. Jenova doesn’t want Zack to get close; he doesn’t want him to break his despair, to shatter her spell. She wants Sephirotn to flee—to run, to learn, to change……..

• Sephiroth rushes out of the Reactor

• Zack finds him in the library, just hours later; he never took a minute to stop looking for him

~

• There, Zack is able to soothe his best friend’s aches—if only momentarily. He assures him that he’s not a monster; he assures him that he’s the kindest, smartest, most wonderful person that he has ever met. He squeezes his arm, tries to wring the poisonous thoughts out. He won’t bear to lose another friend to the same toxic mindset that had crippled Angeal. He won’t…!

• And Sephiroth hears him.

• He really, really hears him.

• He believes him…

…

• …But he still wants to remain in the library to read, to learn about what he may never able to learn about again. And it’s then that he makes a promise to Zack: the moment he feels overwhelmed, stressed, scared… he will come right back to inn. Immediately.

• Zack is hesitant, but ultimately agrees.

• After all, he trusts his friend with his life

~

• Seeing her puppet beginning to slip away, Jenova brutally seizes control the moment Zack is gone

• Sephiroth tries to fight, but is too weak to resist alone, to fend her off.

.

.

.

• He succumbs, and out into the town he goes

🔥🔥🔥

• Back at the Reactor, enter Zack. He’s mortified; he’s enraged; he’s confused… He tries to bring his blade to the other’s neck, as he’s standing before the Thing’s tank, but can’t bring himself to do it. His arm his numb. He can’t even manage a single word, a single breath.

• Sephiroth takes the opportunity to attack him. Brutally…

…

• And it’s thereafter, when Sephiroth is monologuing about all this nonsense, about this drivel about being the Chosen One, that Zack realizes it—laying on the catwalk of the chamber, his arms gashed and bloodied, his eyes wide and hazed with tears:

• This isn’t Sephiroth.

.

.

.

• They continue to fight, Zack forced to defend to himself now. Blood is shed; screams are made; clothes and skin are torn—albeit only on Zack’s side, with Sephiroth’s face marred only with crimson that had already been spewed….

…

• And yet, Zack still refuses to fight.

• He continues calling out to his friend, trying to get him to hear his voice.

• He pleads.

• He cries.

• Sephiroth laughs.

• Sephiroth scoffs.

• Sephiroth smirks.

• Sephiroth impales him.

.

.

.

• And Zack gets up, having been thrown to the ground like a discarded toy.

• And he limps toward the possessed man.

• And he opens his arms,

• and throws himself into Sephiroth’s chest, whispering:

…

• “I love you, Sephiroth…”

.

.

.

.

.

And in this world, in this crazy universe you have taken the time to read through… those words are enough <3

[amora-ledezma]

King Of My Heart

Warnings: Mentioned Cheating

Genre: Established Relationship, Misunderstanding, Angst/Reverse Comfort, Fluff at the end

Song lyrics will be at the end of this post

Synopsis: (Based on the King Of Hearts being beheaded because the Queen of Hearts suspected him of being unfaithful to her) She’s done it. Riddle’s mother has finally gotten him to doubt you. It’s up to you to assure him.

Or, the one time Riddle’s mind got plagued with doubt and the umpteenth time you remind him he’s your everything.

»»—————————　🥀　——————————-««

She’s done it. The wrench had finally done it.

Riddle’s mother has planted enough doubt into her son’s mind to drive him paranoid.

She’s planted enough doubt in his mind to make him believe you weren’t happy with him. He believed you wanted anyone else.

She’s made him believe you’d turn around and run into the arms of the nonexistent person he believed you were cheating with.

Moments molted into hours. You mind was running so unbearably fast that you can’t even finish one thought without another coming through right away.

You remember the angry sound of his shoes against the marble floor. The way the doors slammed open to reveal him.

Riddle, with his face painted red with rage and… tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be angry or cry.

Worried, you asked him what was wrong.

“Y—YOU KNAVE!” He marched up to you, hiccuping from the tears running down his face.

“YOU UNFAITHFUL,” He had grabbed you by the collar and dragged your face to be right in front of his.

“SWINE!” Riddle bellowed, the hand that grabbed your collar trembled. Even with what he thinks you’ve done, he can’t bring himself to hurt you.

“HOW DARE YOU TRY AND MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME?!” You worriedly tried calming him down, you tried to wipe his tears, just for your hands to be slapped away like they’ve touched blood as velvet as his hair. But most of all, you were preparing for the inevitable.

“I’VE OUGHT TO CLEAVE OFF YOUR HEAD RIGHT HERE AND NOW!” He said, reaching for his pen.

You stand there in shock and disbelief. You ask him what was he talking about. “SO NOW YOU DECIDE TO ACT AS IF YOU’RE INNOCENT! YOU’VE BEEN OUT AND ABOUT, PULLING MY DORM MEMBERS ALONG!”

He took a deep breath. Then another. A million more. Then he spoke, more composed.

“Now tell me,” He said, suddenly calm.

He didn’t think you were worth even being angry at anymore.

And it was somehow me terrifying than his earlier outburst. At first, he just seemed irrationally angry, but now? He looks absolutely heart broken. And you think your heart might have broken too from the mere sight.

“Who’s the man you managed to bewitch? Might it be Spade?” He asked, letting out a scoff, you notice his fingers turn white as he gripped his pen too tightly.

“Trapolla?” He looks away, jaw clenched.

“The Seven forbid, was it Clover?” He started trembling again.

Your world shattered. You loved him more than life himself and there he was, accusing you becoming unfaithful.

Then the realization dawned on you.

His mother. His wretched mother—

You had just met her last week, and saying she didn’t like you was an enormous understatement.

But even if she did cause this, the fact that he was convinced in 5 days at most told you: you were severely lacking in proving he was all that mattered to you.

“Riddle.” You wince, it came out harsher than intended.

“How could I throw away the loyalty I swore to you the day we got together? The loyalty I swore to you when we decided that we’d be richer than any royalty upon a golden throne so long as we have each other? Now that I’ve realized how I haven’t been able to prove my devotion to you,” you linger on the revelation.

“I don’t know what to do with myself.” You laugh humorlessly at your faults.

“Sometimes you feel like a full on rain storm and I’m merely a house of cards.” You cautiously reach out to him, slowly as to give him the chance to back away.

“Riddle, King of my heart, my body and soul.” He didn’t back away, you rub his cheek tenderly; you were glad you were slowly easing away his doubt.

“Nothing can challenge my devotion to you, love.” Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“How can I be sure you mean every single word you say? How can I be sure you aren’t saying these words just to continue your…affair?” His eyes became cold again.

.

.

.

“I think beheading me would be too light of a punishment. Death would be too merciful.” You say, eyes downcast.

“If you wish to inflict pain onto me, leave my life and I will cease to live.” You breathe out.

“These luxurious drapes would be no different from rags, the golden pieces I wear would be no different from insignificant stones under your shoes.” Tears started pooling around your eye line at the thought of him leaving you.

“I’ve made you my temple, my mural, my sky.” The tears started falling. You desperately wish you could stop them.

“You are free to so what you want with me.” You grab his hand and pull it closer to you.

“But that will not stop me from begging you not to leave.” Your lip trembled.

“Please.” You plead.

“Riddle, every breathe that leave my lips, every beat of my heart, every. Single. Thing I do is yours.” You’re on your knees now, you don’t remember when you dropped to your knees but you don’t care.

“I am yours. Yours to keep,” you take a shaky breath.

“…and yours to lose.” Your voice breaks as you cry into the hand you grabbed.

You feel something trickle onto your intertwined hands.

You look up and see Riddle’s face painted with tears again.

Only this time, it wasn’t accompanied by anger.

“D-do you truly-?” The dam broke, the onslaught of his tears didn’t seem to have the intention of stopping anytime soon.

“I d-do not know what came over me.” He said, his voice teary and shaky.

He dropped to come face to face with you.

“Riddle. Every word I have said came straight from my heart.” You say, laughing a bit through your tears.

“Dearest, I truly am sorry for my behavior, I-!” Another sniff, he wiped a sleeve over his face.

Without another word you pull his head into your lap. He started telling you what his mother said, how she commented on every relationship you had with anyone who wasn’t him, how utterly stupid he felt he actually convinced himself you were being unfaithful to him!

He chattered on, but you didn’t mind. It was nice to have your lover back. Instead, you listened attentively. Nodding along and humming.

The floor was cold, but you didn’t care, it didn’t matter. Nothing ever did when you were together.

.

.

.

*

“Riddle?”

“Yes, dearest?”

“I love you. You ought to know and remember that, hm?”

He laughed. A boyish, melodic laugh.

And by The Seven, you think you fell deeper.

“Yes, dearest. I’m sorry once again.”

“You’re forgiven…if you stay for a bit and cuddle with me.”

“It would certainly be my pleasure.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Ugh.”

A giggle.

The cuddling session in your bed was well worth the fight you two resolved a few hours before.

Yes, hours. You found that when given the chance, Heartslabyul’s Dormleader, Riddler Rosehearts, can and will talk one’s ear off.

It was quite endearing.

»»—————————　🥀　——————————-««

List of songs: King Of My Heart(“king of my heart, my body and soul”), Tolerate it(“I’ve made you my temple, my mural, my sky”), Sparks Fly(“The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm and I’m a house of cards”) all songs by Taylor Swift

[cilil]

Eönwë Week - Day 3: Celeg Aithorn

AN: I'll be doing meta/headcanon posts for some of these days, hope you find them entertaining as well💙

Today's topic: Celeg Aithorn, or: We know the name of Eönwë's sword?

𓅛 To answer this question, we first have to gather some tidbits found in several sources. I'll present those first - that will be the canon part - and then move on to talk about my headcanons based on them. Let's begin!

𓅛 Celeg Aithorn was mentioned in Beleg's whetting spell in The Lay of the Children of Húrin. Here is the passage in question:

There wondrous wove he words of sharpness, and the names of knives and Gnomish blades he uttered o'er it: even Ogbar's spear and the glaive of Gaurin whose gleaming stroke did rive the rocks of Rodrim's hall; the sword of Saithnar, and the silver blades of the enchanted children of chains forged in their deep dungeon; the dirk of Nargil, the knife of the North in Nogrod smithied; the sweeping sickle of the slashing tempest, the lambent lightning's leaping falchion even Celeg Aithorn that shall cleave the world. (The Lay of the Children of Húrin, "II. Beleg", p. 45)

For now, let's just take note and put a pin in the "cleave the world" part.

𓅛 The name Celeg Aithorn is Early Noldorin, with different sources providing slightly different meanings. According to elfdict.com, it may mean Lambent Lightning.

𓅛 In The Annals of Aman (Morgoth's Ring), we then learn of a sword that Manwë carried during the War of the Powers:

Thence, seeing that all was lost (for that time), [Melkor] sent forth on a sudden a host of Balrogs, the last of his servants that remained, and they assailed the standard of Manwë, as it were a tide of flame. But they were withered in the wind of his wrath and slain with the lightning of his sword; and Melkor stood at last alone. (MR, p. 75)

This is relevant because, according to The War of the Jewels, Manwë later gave this sword to Eönwë.

𓅛 As for the final puzzle piece, there is the old version of the Dagor Dagorath prophecy provided in Lost Tales, part of which states:

So shall it be that Fionwë Úrion, son of Manwë, of love for Urwendi shall in the end be Melko's bane, and shall destroy the world to destroy his foe, and so shall all things then be rolled away. (LT Part One, p. 219)

As many of you already know, Fionwë Úrion is the same character who later became Eönwë, changed to Manwë's herald and Maiarin servant instead of his son because the concept of the Valar having children was abandoned.

𓅛 So we have a sword named Celeg Aithorn "that shall cleave the world", an old prophecy stating that Eönwë is going to destroy the world and Manwë giving him his sword. It has therefore been suggested that these two swords are in fact that same, and I would say that a sword originally owned by Manwë and seen with lightning would fit the proposed etymology of Celeg Aithorn as well.

𓅛 Now, as you've noticed none of the sources cited above are from the Silmarillion and canonicity is a fickle thing in this fandom as is. Whether Tolkien, if you asked him today, would say that yes, this sword of Manwë canonically exists and Eönwë wielded it in the War of Wrath and is also the same as Celeg Aithorn, I can't say for sure. Best I can say is that it all fits together.

𓅛 This is why I've adopted this concept into my personal headcanon (note: I will from now on refer to it as just one sword, based on the theory that it is the same, and just call it Celeg Aithorn).

𓅛 I like to think that Aulë forged Celeg Aithorn for Manwë, either as a gift similar to the scepter the Noldor would later make for him or as a weapon to use in battle against Melkor. Manwë accepted it and also carried it, though I'm admittedly not sure if the part where he fights the Balrogs is something I'm keeping in my default verse; in verses where he is, for one reason or another, more "combative" for sure, but my take on current canon!Manwë is that he's not really a fighter (much like Melkor, funnily enough) and doesn't enjoy any sort of fighting, only defending himself or others if he absolutely has to resort to that.

𓅛 Seeing the destruction caused by the War of the Powers, knowing that going to war time and time again wasn't what Eru intended for him and also driven by his personal aversion, Manwë then gave Celeg Aithorn to Eönwë instead. Eönwë had already made a name for himself as one of the best warriors among the Maiar and Manwë sensed that there would difficult battles in his future, telling him that the sword would be of better use to him ("It's dangerous to go alone! Take this", if you will).

𓅛 This was also a symbolic act foreshadowing how Eönwë would be the one to lead the Host of Valinor in the War of Wrath, not Manwë himself, as well as both of them accepting their fates: Manwë accepting that the role of the Elder King was to stay behind and Eönwë accepting his role of fighting Melkor alongside the Children.

𓅛 Eönwë has used Celeg Aithorn ever since and it has served him faithfully. It's possible that it would betray him if he ever ceased being loyal to Manwë, but this remains in the realm of pure theory so far, given how loyal to his lord Eönwë has been.

𓅛 Being a sword crafted by a Vala and for a Vala, Celeg Aithorn is very powerful. It also shares the moral alignment of its current and previous owner and is therefore one of, if not the best weapon to fight evil creatures with (similar to the Master Sword in The Legend of Zelda, to draw a popular comparison). It was likely blessed by Manwë and hallowed by Varda, like she did with the Silmarils.

𓅛 Eönwë may have kept his old sword - the one he used before receiving Celeg Aithorn - for sentimental reasons, since he used to have it sharpened and maintained by Mairon. This may, unbeknownst to him, have saved him if Mairon, during his time as a spy, tampered with it to give Melkor an advantage.

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose

@elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @singleteapot

@stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams @eonweweek

[dwarrowdelf]

o my brother

Seven drabbles for @maedhrosmaglorweek which I’m definitely not two entire weeks late for 😅 You can also read them on AO3 with any relevant author’s notes, but I’m posting them there in batches.

one: childhood/growing up

Of the brothers, Maedhros and Maglor were closest in age. They spent nearly their entire childhoods as a family of four, roaming the cultivated wildlands of Aman. Tirion upheld them as darlings, once the crown prince returned to the city: bright-haired, quick-witted Maitimo and sweet-voiced, silver-tongued Macalaurë, ever together. Two shining jewels to adorn any debate parlor, concert hall, or royal party. There were the other brilliant princes, and of course the beloved princesses, but the eldest house was ever the most brilliant and most beloved by the Noldor, in the days before Morgoth spread his discord to peaceful Valinor.

two: the oath

Maglor had not, as many suspected in later years, helped to craft the oath. Fëanor was a great orator and wordsmith in his own right without his second son’s help.

Their father had stood in the square under the Mindon and spoken his oath fiercely and without forethought. And what a rousing oath it was! The younger sons had been quick to follow. Maglor had looked to Maedhros and found him already looking back. Neither of them had wanted to swear it, but they had agreed, with that look, not to abandon their little brothers.

Funny how that worked out.

three: the long peace

“I cannot believe the audacity of that boy!”

“‘That boy’ is the Lord of Nargothrond,” Maedhros says, amused.

Maglor whirls on him, finger pointed in a hilarious mirror of their mother at her most high tempered. “He’s our little shit of a cousin who abandoned us on a hunting trip that he planned and then found the Secondborn! Without us! No, don’t look at me in that tone of voice, I’m very cross!”

Maedhros’s tremulous hold on his expression cracks, and he breaks into laughter. Maglor smiles to himself, relieved to see the tension finally slipping from his brother’s shoulders.

four: nirnaeth arnoediad, reputation

Maedhros’s well-earned reputation precedes him. Orcs would sooner run than face him, fearsome as he is; even trolls and wargs are wary.

Maglor’s reputation precedes him too, carefully crafted. The kind brother, the soft brother, nevermind that softness alone could never hold the least defensible line of the leaguer. But it is good to be underestimated, good to let everyone forget that he was the one Maedhros trained against when relearning the sword.

That soft reputation is why Ulfang’s eyes are wide with shock in the head that Maglor cleaves from his body for the crime of betraying his brother.

five: change and loss of self

Being burnt by the Silmaril did not break Maglor as it broke his brother, though losing him nearly did. What broke Maglor, in the end, was realizing that the burn would never heal such that he could play any two-handed instrument again.

He contemplated, then, following in the footsteps of his brother or grandmother.

But many years ago, when Maedhros still could not leave his sickbed, they had picked apart the Oath. It seemed fit to kill them all, but they thought if just one of them lived, perhaps the rest might have a chance, however small.

So Maglor lives.

six: alienation and isolation, AUs and fix-its

Maglor dreams, sometimes: a voice telling him it is time to come home. His mother telling him not to stay out too late, his father calling that dinner is ready. Maedhros as he had been, slinging an arm around his shoulders and telling him he’s done enough and to stop hiding in his room before they all forget what he looks like.

Sometimes he wakes up after those dreams at dawn or dusk, and a red-orange sky tricks him a moment longer.

He confesses all of this to a stranger near Mithlond, and finds himself on a boat sailing West.

seven: fate

Maglor never came to the timeless halls, and Maedhros feared. The only tapestry he could find of his brother was a vast stretch of shore with one figure, alone, walking. Anyone who might have news, he asked.

Lost, faded, disappeared, they all said, some even with pity.

Maedhros reembodies last of his brothers, and there, there is Maglor. Maedhros folds himself without thought into supplication older than Valinor, begs forgiveness from the one he most wronged.

Two scarred hands deign to cradle his face. “There is no need. Only do not leave me again, I beg you.”

“Never,” Maedhros swears.

[starfall-spirit]

Day 3: Sunshine

Summary: Elain enjoys a picnic with Lucien, pondering the future they'll share in Day.

AN: This event is my first time posting Elucien. Naturally, I ask you to be polite in your feedback.

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 658

CW: None

He was far too handsome for his own good. Elain was all too aware he knew that as he lounged on the thin blanket spread out beneath them, a glint of golden sun catching in the red of his hair as the mid-summer breeze ruffle the strands that weren't pinned beneath his shoulders. "I can feel you staring, mate."

He smirked slightly as she settled on her elbow beside him, his eyes still closed against the light peaking through the leaves swaying above them. "Sometimes I wonder when I'm going to wake up."

Lucien peeled his eyes open, rolling onto his side to mirror his mate. "What do you mean, love?"

She fiddled with a fallen leaf. "Things have always been... For years and years, it's been one danger or drama or expectation after the next. And now..."

Now she was happy. Her future was bright, unrestrained by conflict or social expectations. She had the leisure to build a real relationship with her sisters even as she no longer depended on them so entirely. She had the freedom to build a life of her own with the male she loved with her whole heart. To spend the rest of her long, long life in his arms, content to lie beneath the sun day after day with only the sounds of bright laughter and music and unadulterated joy around them.

That's not to say the Day Court was flawless. Every person and place had their faults. But it was a far cry from the first few years she spent in Prythian, one court as cold as the next as they tried to piece together a war-cleaved continent. She hadn't bore the brunt of it and she'd never try to claim she had. But it had still been an exhausting few years.

Middle sister.

Mediator.

Gentle and good and kind and perfect.

Breaking away was the most terrifying and exhilarating thing she had ever done, to be frank. And it had brought her here, out of the box she had been pushed into as a girl and into a whole new way of seeing the world.

"Now I'm free of it all and waiting for reality to set in. For some conflict or conundrum to shatter this dreamscape." Her mate hummed, an arm curling around her waist so she was forced to shift with him when he rolled onto his back again. Contentment shuttered down the thread between them as she buried her face in his chest, letting their legs tangle around one another. Full from their picnic with the warmth of the high sun around them it would be all too easy to drift to sleep there, she knew. Another little element of this utopia of theirs. "It all feels too perfect to last."

His fingers tangled in her unbound hair, stroking from her scalp to the curled ends before repeating the motion. "I've never taken kindly to good fortune either," he murmured. "At least, not until you came along. It was far too fleeting to trust. But with the war behind us, the courts near peace, our bond officiated, here with my true family and you at my side... I'm willing to risk it."

"Can you promise me this is forever?"

He smiled, kissing her hair. "No, my love. But I can promise it's the beginning of a brilliance to bloom. And I'll push Lady Luck as long as I'm able if that means we'll have our happily ever after."

"Promise?"

"By the sun above us," he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. "By the moon to rise." Another kiss fell under her jaw before he raised his head again, lips just inches from her own. "Every star that falls or burns for us night after night. By the very bond between us, I swear with all I am, Elain, we'll have a lifetime of joy and light."

And as his lips finally found hers, she believed.

~~~~~

General/Elucien taglist:

@elucienweekofficial // @goddess-aelin // @acotar-fanns // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn // @vulpes-fennec // @headcanonheadcase // @aldbooks // @panicatthenightcourt // @corcracrow // @jennity-blog

[adriancatrin]

Best Zukka fic recs and/or Azula centric fics (bonus points for both!) I'm desperate for more content.

(digging thru my bookmarks) hoo boy ok let's see

i'm gonna put a cut because this might be long!! idk what all of the zukka 'classics' you've read so i just included 'em if they're my faves. list is in no particular order, pls heed warnings/tags on AO3 as some include potentially triggering content ~

like the sun inside of you by ofherlionheart: Zuko is sixteen years old when he’s handed a crown, a throne, and a hundred-year ancestral legacy of colonial imperialism. He’s not scared of the work; he’s scared of being consumed by the responsibilities and burdens he’s claimed. What Zuko doesn’t quite realize, yet, is that he’s not alone in this. Still in progress, one chapter left to go. Very slow-burn Zukka, and some great Azula stuff

To Cleave These Roots We've Made by Erisenyo: Sokka and Zuko have been roommates and best friends through college and graduation, through first jobs and new jobs and promotions, through friends getting married and sisters being pregnant and everything in between. But that all ends in four days. Four days to pack up an apartment. Four days before Zuko goes to law school and Sokka stays behind. Four days to untangle two lives that Sokka and Zuko have spent ten years weaving together. Can you call it a divorce, if you were never actually together in the first place? I don't remember Azula's involvement in this, but gosh darn it's a good one

i won't stumble as i follow down this path (cause words that are spoken are just other things to have) by jublis: It takes Zuko one year to visit his sister again. Featuring birthday weeks, struggling with your own goodness, and a future. Pretty sure this is a Zukki, ft. Azula very heavily

Destiny in the details by salytierra: Sokka heard that story before. Of course he did, the turning point of Zuko's destiny, the single bravest and most noble (or stupid) thing he's ever done. He retold the thoughts that went through his head back then, the repercussions... but he left out a single detail. And it's that detail that changes everything.  I need to see his soulmark. Sokka thinks, heart hammering in his chest. Fantastic post-canon soulmate AU. Azula's not in it, though

Divine Intervention by AggressiveStress: Sokka has had a lot of dates but they never stick around and he doesn’t know why. Literally everyone else knows why. Honestly I don't remember much about this one I just know I really liked it hahaha

Maybe I Don't Want Heaven by inkfingers_mcgee: Zuko does not realize that he wants to break up with Mai until she says, “We need to talk about us,” with an unmistakable finality, and the candles around his meditation mat don’t even flicker. // Five years after ascending the throne, Zuko reaches yet another crossroads of self. Sokka helps him through it. Mai incites national legislative reform. Azula is listed as a character in this one but I don't remember her role. The fic is great though. slow burn in case u haven't caught onto the trend of my fave fics yet haha

Of Tea and Turtle Ducks (and the Turtle Duck Guy) by Erisenyo: Sokka is nothing if not enthusiastic about his interests--Learning. Campus traditions. The campus turtle ducks. The guy who's watching the ducks so intently this year.  Zuko is nothing if not intense about duck watching. (It's not really about the ducks.) (Is it ever?) No Azula again but gosh darn it this fic is so cute. (expect more erisenyo on this list whoops)

this ultraviolet morning light by GallifreyanFairytale: sokka and zuko break up, make up, go undercover, thwart a rebellion, watch the sunrise, and change the course of fire nation history. not necessarily in that order. I don't remember the level of Azula's involvement in this fic, but I do remember she's in recovery and Zuko thinks about her a fair amount.

Empty Bodies, Empty Smiles by attackfish: Zuko sorts through the wreckage of his childhood and comes across a doll given to his sister. Not a shipping fic, just a character study of sorts of Azula as a child. It's... very sad, but incredibly nuanced in its understanding of her as a very unhappy and unfortunately disturbed child

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic/VSfic: Chief Arnook never assigns Sokka to protect Princess Yue, so he goes to fight the Fire Nation with the other men. When the moon dies, and the ocean spirit takes its revenge, Sokka is caught standing on the deck of a Fire Nation ship. Sokka should have drowned… and he would have drowned, if not for a certain Fire Nation raft fleeing the North Pole. An enemies-to-lovers season 2 rewrite, where Sokka is separated from the gaang during the Siege of the North, and travels the Earth Kingdom with Zuko instead Azula is just S2 Azula w/o redemption I believe, but my goodness the Zukka is just so. SO sweet

Burning Bright by Erisenyo: On a particularly hopeless night, Zuko sends out a messenger hawk to nowhere. He didn’t realize that his messenger hawk is deeply committed to completing the job. And that Sokka happens to be traveling straight through nowhere, at the time. I'm currently rereading this series for the umpteenth time, it's amazing, highly recommend, Azula is hyper intriguing in it too w/ a very complicated relationship with Zuko

All's Fair by Lovely_Elbow_Leech: Book one ends with two major diffrences: 1. Sokka went on the mission with Hahn (it did not go well) 2. Zhao survives the North Pole and that proves unfortunate for everybody (except Zhao, obviously)  Imprisoned on Zhao’s war ship, Sokka and Zuko have to work together to survive. They are not very enthusiastic about this prospect.  And they argue. A lot. Another of my top faves. Book 2 is in progress

Real Slow by surveycorpsjean: “I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?" “Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.” No Azula I believe but heckin' slow burn

this is a gift (it comes with a price) by WitchofEndor: There is a ghost on the Wani. But the crew have grown used to - even fond of - Prince Zuko. And no matter how many times General Iroh tries to gently explain the boy’s predicament, tries to suggest that he might attempt to move on, Prince Zuko can always be found watching the sea. There is a prisoner in the palace. Not Zukka, but the relationships in it are fantastic, including Azula and Zuko.

 While Mighty Oaks Do Fall by WitchofEndor: The newly-crowned Fire Lord Ozai offers his firstborn son to service in the temple. This turns out to be a catastrophic mistake. Wacky crazy fic. There's something funky fresh happening with Azula, but it's an in-progress fic so. who knows where it'll go

I probably don't need to include The Art of Burning but it's in my fave bookmarks so. Same for Blue

Also in retrospect I have a lot of issues with this fic, but here's my post-canon Zukka w/ Azula redemption fic: New Heights

[by-glass-and-waves]

At last, I think I stitched together my drafts for Chapter 14 of The Courtship of the God of Death as best I could

prepare yourselves for major simping

I tried to put different versions of lines in [brackets] unless it was way too different? It all started blurring together tbh. Since this post is so long, I'm going to do a separate post of what I can remember of my thoughts, process, etc

edit: here's the separate post of word vomit

putting cw violence to play it safe

The Lamb's eyes reminded him of the sunrise[, and he could look into them all day. To imagine that he would soon wake up to them every day filled him with a joy that could not be described in words.] He had been blind for so long, yet the Lamb's gentle and patient hand delivered him from his doom.

[How long had be been blind before they liberated him? How long had he been alone? But now, they were at his side, and there was nothing more that he could ever ask for.]

[The Lamb was no Agent of Death. No, they were the herald of rebirth. Of renewal. Of redemption. By their hand, he was liberated, free from the chains of the Old Faith. And with their love, he discovered the joys of Life once more.]

If Death was the setting sun, then the Lamb was herald of the dawn, as radiant as the sun itself. With them came reconciliation. Renewal. Redemption. The chains of the Old Faith broke under the force of their love, liberating him.

How could he have ever lived his life so long without them? What once was dull, monochrome, unsatisfying, was now filled with color and joy.

And now, they were going to accept his ever unworthy heart. If only they could perform the ritual sooner…

[He was such a fool to deny his heart's desire for so long. To think that the Lamb's love for him was true…]

[Despite everything, despite all his faults, his foolishness, his unworthiness, they still thought him worthy enough.]

How cruel time was. He had done much waiting, and could not bear to wait any longer.

[For several days did they whisper into his ear about how happy they were to perform the most sacred of rituals with him. The thought made him tremble both in anticipation and apprehension. He could only hope that he would prove himself worthy of their affections.]

[The Lamb was truly gracious, looking past his flaws and accepting him.]

[The past few days they had been full of excitement for the event that would finally bind them together. Every day they pulled him close with a laugh as sweet as nectar, telling him of how they were ready for his heart.]

----

There were no words that could describe the Lamb. Even if he had every language, every word at his disposal, he would not be able to find one worthy enough to convey their perfection.

And so, he would have to make do with what he knew, inadequate as they were.

Those eyes, were they not as radiant as the sunrise? If they told him they were the Herald of Dawn instead of the Hand of Death, he would believe them.

No, their hand was anything but. It was gentle, patient, guiding him away from despair. With them followed reconciliation. Renewal. Redemption. How could the chains caging him within the Old Faith remain unbroken when their love cleaved the way to his liberation?

It was as if the Lamb left a blaze in their wake, bringing light to the world around them and melting away that which once appeared dull, lifeless. How absurd it was, that one who should deliver death would instead deliver him a new life!

Once did he think them arrogant for what they sought to achieve. But now…

Would that his heart may one day become worthy of their gracious heart. Yet he yearned for the day that the ritual would finally bind their souls to each other.

How cruel time was. He had done much waiting, and could not bear to wait any longer.

----

The Lamb's eyes reminded him of the sunrise. He had been blind for so long, yet the Lamb's gentle and patient hand delivered him from his doom.

If Death was the [setting sun] harbinger of dusk, then the Lamb was herald of dawn, as radiant as the sun itself. With them came reconciliation. Renewal. Redemption. The chains of the Old Faith broke under the force of their love, liberating him.

How could he have ever lived his life so long without them? What once was dull, monochrome, unsatisfying, was now ablaze with their passion.

He thought them foolish once, when they dared to achieve the unthinkable.

And now, they were going to accept his ever unworthy heart. If only they would perform the ritual sooner…

How cruel time was. He had done much waiting, and could not bear to wait any longer.

----

He walked down the aisle, seeing the Lamb in all their radiance in front of the altar. To think, that their love was true-

[But then The One Who Waits stepped behind them and placed his wretched hands on their shoulders.] Then The Unfettered One stepped behind his beloved and placed his grotesque hands on their shoulders.

"Gremar," he said, each syllable sounding as rough as the sand bordering Anchordeep, "how kind of you to offer yourself to us."

[Gremar stopped, confused. The Lamb, his beautiful Lamb, took his hands and smiled. "Isn't it perfect? Your soul will strengthen the bond between the God of Death and I."]

[Already, he felt something creeping up his legs, something cold.]

The Lamb continued to smile as he felt something creeping up his legs.

How cruel fate was.

"Why?" He asked, feeling his heart splinter.

"Because you would provide the most Devotion for me," they said. Even now, their face was radiant and he could not remain angry at them.

What a waste, he thought. He could not possibly-

But then they saw The One Who Waits take their hand and raise it to his lips. [Their mouth formed into a pointed grin as h] (yes it just cut off here)

----

[It was as if he was basked in the sun's radiance as he approached the altar. There she was, in all her elegance.]

The day arrived, and he walked into the Temple. At last, he could offer his undeserving heart to the Lamb, and they would take it and treasure it and-

Then he froze as he saw the crooked claws of The Unfettered One grip onto his beloved's shoulders.

"Gremar," the God of Death intoned//addressed him//spoke, his voice echoing within the Temple walls. "How kind of you to offer yourself to us."

The Lamb looked at him with the sun in their eyes.

It was here that Gremar realized his folly. He sought to capture the sun, not realizing how its sunlight could burn him just as easily as it could warm the earth. (???)

----

Then a shadow engulfed his beloved Lamb, as if dusk arrived to swallow the sun. Disfigured fingers wrapped around her radiant shoulders, and he could not help but shudder.

It was Death himself, come to separate his love from him.

"Gremar," a voice not unlike [crumbling sand/a dying creature's last breath] spoke, "how kind of you to offer yourself to us."

Then it was as if a storm blocked off the sun's rays as The One Who Waits towered over him. His crimson eyes gazed upon him, as if he were judging him. Gremar found himself unable to move, as if his feet were frozen to the ground.

"How impudent you are, to covet my Consort." The god leaned forward, baring his teeth. "You think yourself deserving of that which is not yours. Such arrogance does not belong in my Cult." He straightened his back and looked back down at him with an unimpressed air. "But, fret not, pitiful whelp. I am a merciful god. I offer you reconciliation." The broken bones the God of Death used as fingers gripped his face and turned it towards him.

"You would do anything for your precious Lamb, would you not?" He asked, condescension dripping from his words. "You sought to prove your love for them, did you not?"

Gremar trembled in his grip, from both fear and the feeling of frostbite creeping up his body. He cursed himself for losing his courage so quickly. But what was a mortal against a deity?

The claws dug into his skin. "Speak." "Of course," he replied, feeling his legs grow numb. The One Who Waits tilted his head.

"Then you shall find this not a sacrifice, but the purest declaration of your devotion to them."

[Your very soul shall serve as the catalyst? of the bond between the Lamb and I.]

[The God of Death smiled as his claws pierced his frozen chest and plucked his heart from within. "Let this be the last thing you know, pathetic creature. The Lamb belongs to me."]

Cue The Line™ Might do Narinder's asshole hand kiss to Shapash before he cracks open Gremar's chest, also so Gremar can see how giddy Shapash looks and realize she simping for Narinder

----

He looked up, feeling his heart splinter.

They looked absolutely radiant as they kissed their beloved's shoulder.

His heart shattered as he saw him lift their hand to his lips and grin with pointed teeth. He gave in to the ice that froze his body.

Narinder's smile grew as he saw the look on Gremar's face.

The death of a broken heart, though unconventional, was one he could appreciate.

----

Gremar felt something creeping up his legs as he stood before The One Who Waits and his Consort. Something cold.

His Lamb, his Beloved, did not truly love him, did they? They made use of his love to harvest it - to power the bond between themself and the death god. Gremar could feel his heart crack with each thought, taking him closer and closer to despair.

And yet, he could not bring himself to be angry at the Lamb.

He cursed the God of Death, cursed him for ensnaring his darling Lamb. Even now, they did not receive any form of love. He was a cruel, cruel god, to not-

"My Consort," The Unchained One murmured, "in the name of Death do I offer you my heart, and receive yours in turn." He took their hand and raised it to his lips and Gremar watched his Lamb blush and smile at the gesture. The god glanced at him, and his lips curled into a cruel grin. The Lamb's most ardent devotee gave into despair and was consumed by the depths. (??)

Narinder continued to smile. The death of a broken heart, though unconventional, was one that he could appreciate.

[rom-e-o]

Liable to Fall - Chapter 3 (Scrooge/OC)(Post-canon)

Back with a short, angsty morsel before we get into the real agony. :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

In that precious hour before dinner, Ebenezer Scrooge parked himself at his mahogany study and studied all the information about his wife that he could.

His wife. Gods above, he could still scarcely believe it.

It was hard to believe he wasn’t living some farce. The last he could recall, he was a bachelor in his home; a man who occupied his time by attending charitable galas and writing checks to institutions long past due for charitable donations. If his social calendar was free , he would busy himself by reading his nephew’s young daughter to sleep in front of a roaring fire.

That was his life as he knew it.

But … to be married?

He’d shared his heart and bed with a woman he couldn’t remember. The notion threatened to cleave his heart.

Perhaps it was a farce, he thought? Some elaborate hoax? To what end, he didn’t know … but perhaps.

Yet, document by document, his skepticism was proved wrong. As he dutifully scanned the records, he read detailed articles about her life before London, including her adoption by real estate investors turned youth activists Theresea and Arthur DoGoode after being orphaned at two years old. Also included in the batch was supplemental information about her previous marriage to Orin Gustav Spiegler, her storied medical history, a newspaper clipping about Spiegler’s conviction…then, their time together.

Everything was sorted chronologically, which made pursuing an easy feat. It seemed his record-keeping was still top-notch in the strange reality he was living in.

Included in the stack of documents, situated toward the front of the pile, was a copy of a marriage certificate. Their names were side-by-side. His own name scrawled in his familiar flourish, further leaving no room for argument in his mind that he had signed the document.

Then, her name. Constance Albany DoGoode-Scrooge. Bit of a mouthful, he thought with a laugh and strange fondness in his heart. Reflexively, he reached out and allowed his fingers to grace the name written before him, the ink long since dried to permanence.

She’d kept her father’s name, he thought with a smile. At least he knew with promise that his present-day self had a reasonable head on his shoulders.

He was quite aware of how other men, regardless of prestige or upbringing, didn’t allow their wives such an obvious degree of freedom … and it filled his heart with joy that he had.

Then, that joy hardened like ice at the realization that all that goodness was now essentially null and void.

“She had such a hard life, then finally, finally she found a better one.”

It had taken her almost forty years, twenty of which were spent shackled to an abusive spouse through golden bands, to find solace. She’d survived an attempted suicide, drug addition, losing her father … and yet, she glowed like a golden idol to him. A goddess of warmth and happiness.

He swallowed the words like sour medicine, and with a grimace.

It was so much more than a simple fall, he realized. Something far greater than even his memory was at risk.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his pitied musings.

“Mr. Scrooge, sir,” Magda called hollowly from the other side. “Dinner is ready, when it pleases you.”

“I’ll be down in a moment,” he found the lucidity to reply. While the man slowly felt like he was drifting back into the realm of reality, he couldn’t deny some of his actions and replies were likely the result of muscle memory and routine more than functioning thought.

With a hay-soft voice, he called back, “…The lady of the house will be joining us, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” The unspoken ‘as always’ hung in the air with tangible swing.

“Good,” he said, pushing himself up from his chair. “Very good. I’ll be down in a moment.”

He felt as if he needed a lifetime to rally himself for the occasion. Yet, seeing as time of the essence in this situation, he settled for five minutes.

The shortest – and longest – five minutes of his life.

Dinner began with palpable tension, but as time passed and their bellies filled with chatter and warm food, the mood began to lift.

The man took a gamble and initiated something Londoners usually despised; unnecessary small talk.

“So, you both prepared tonight’s dish, yes?” Ebenezer asked, eyes dancing between the two ladies. “I have a feeling I know the answer, but I must ask … which one of you added shaved truffle to the dish?”

The two exchanged surprised and pleased expressions before Constance raised a hand. “Me, I’m afraid. Truffle in pörkölt isn’t exactly a traditional ingredient.”

“No, it certainly isn’t, but it does add a quite a nice flavor. A wonderful decision, I’d say.”

Constance blushed lightly, her smile broadening. “Thank you.”

“Magda, does it meet your standards?”

“You jest, sir. Everything about this fine lady meets my standards.”

Constance reddened further, hiding that lovely smile of hers behind a raised hand. “Oh, please…”

“We’ve been adding truffle in this dish since Connie came to live here,” Magda said, reaching down to pinch the red-headed woman’s cheek delicately. “She offered the idea as a solution to balance out some of the paprika.”

“Really?” he asked, looking at her quizzically. “Without all the paprika, is it even the same dish?”

“Hm, it’s probably closer to tokány,” she said, tapping her chin as she pondered the question, “But I think it’s all well and fine.”

“That sounds like begrudging acquiescence on your part.”

“Perish the thought. I’ve had to alter the recipe for all the English lords I’ve served. My husband is the same way.”

“A-Ah…” Ebenezer sighed, only wounded for a moment before he heard Constance’s radiant laughter from across the table. Her natural, musical laughter.

It was a beautiful sound, he couldn’t deny that.

“Now, don’t tease too much, Magda,” Constance chastised, giving the maid a playful grin before turning her attention to Ebenezer from across the dining table. “My mother loved truffle, so we ate it in everything growing up. My father loved to cook, and every time he made dinner, she always added it to dishes. Even ones that, perhaps, didn’t need them. It never mattered. My father did anything for my mother.”

“Your father, Arthur.”

Her eyes practically lit up at the mention of the late man’s name. “Yes.”

Ebenezer dared to lean across the table a bit, just enough to search those cornflower blue eyes of hers more devoutly. He then lowered his voice a big so Magda couldn’t hear him as she rounded room to the drink cart to uncork a bottle of tawny port for dessert.

It was a dusty bottle too, from what he could see, so he had some time before the seal broke.

However, as he stared at her expectant expression, his mouth suddenly dried. “I-I…”

“Do you remember him?” she asked hopefully. She leaned forward, the rufflers of her peignoir draping over the tapered edge of the table.

Guilt flashed across his face, and her eyes clouded with sadness in recognition. “Oh.”

“I apologize.” That was moronic of me.

“N-no," she choked out with a nondescript laugh. "It’s quite alright. It's ... not your fault.”

Yet, he could tell from the way that her fingers trembled against the stem of her drinking glass that her pleasantries were bitter falsehoods.

The after-dinner drinks were consumed in silence.

[safekeeperscosm]

tell me EVERYTHING about the SVTFOE cleaved AU, it's so good

OUGHFJFK UMM.. OKAY!!

Cleaved AU is a self-indulgent canon-divergent hypothetical rewrite @saik0m0che and I have been working on (passively 💀) since the end of svtfoe s3. but I've always had this sort of idea/concept from mid s2

other than maybe a few minor changes for s1-2, post battle for mewni is straight up where I take the reigns

first of all. Toffee doesn't die.

but star DOES still "kill him" at the end of BFM, it's just that I refuse to let his soul pass on (for unfinished business!)

the premise here takes from s2's emotionally charged magic of star's wand crystal being cleaved apart, to then cleaving her & toffee's souls together. which means they share all of each other's pain haha! so bcuz they're together, you can't kill or crystallize toff since that would harm star

but how? idk man something abt the two of them being in the realm of dying butterfly magic at the same time. something abt how toffee is no longer flesh, only decaying essence. something abt how star sorta died and came back to life just as she saved the realm. he's like a parasite!

I hc he wasn't gonna live long after BFM if star hadn't killed him off anyway. but still :(

not only does this "murderer" have to live with star at the castle (likely in the dungeon first, they'd want to break the bond of their souls), he's missing 90% of his memories — because star brutally obliterated him & he spent a very long time in the magic realm alone chanting the same spell over and over again

on the bright side, eclipsa later finds company in him, even doe he doesn't remember her (but very much trusts her 🥺)

oh yeah he & eclipsa dated in the past and became good friends after (Globgor was the one who introduced them shsghsj)

second. Glossaryck stays dead.

or rather isn't physically there with the main cast. he can't die, he just decided to let things unfold and watch at a distance

he does come around for Meteora's Lesson

rest in pudding is when star & toffee are officially cleaved! she starts asphyxiating from time to time after the funeral scenes and especially while chasing Glossy's "ghost"/reflections. he leads her to a crystallized toffee and THAT'S when they meet again. it also gives me a fun reason to do a parallel scene (redraw lol) of moon & eclipsa

you just KNOW rhombulus is gonna go through the hardest time here and he is my boy <3

lastly, SEPTARSIS!!!

this needs some episode rearranging, but maybe after Butterfly Trap, star & toffee go on a trip to septarsis with yvgeny to find a way to cleave their souls and potentially get toffee's memories back. star introduces herself as Star Johansen since everyone there hates the Butterflys. she sticks with the name from that point on

toffee does regain his memories (but can't recall them all at once, it's a process that takes time) and star is met with the revelation that he & celena were in love, making him her great great grandfather. it's also revealed how toffee managed to make the magic realm decay, and that celena was the one who helped him

oh yeah. other things;

marco pretends he's fine for his friends & family, trying to hide the fact he misses star, so his parents convince him to be the exchange student for once. but since he has dimensional scissors anyway, he visits every 1-2 weeks? not sure abt jarco. long distance? still breakup? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

he might still be an unofficial squire cause that's for fun

Pony Head CAN get a prosthetic horn. but she actually goes through some kind of character development 😭

Ludo ??? I wanna do something for him I just dunno what. Yvgeny doesn't leave so ???

the Meteora arc ??? is paced better ???

Tom is fine Tom is great

this is ofc mostly s3 as s4 makes me so angry and bored fgshjs,, in the end magic is still "destroyed" and that's how star & toffee are finally free of each other. toffee gets to fight & kill mina while the redemption spell is cast, and he's reunited with celena to peacefully pass on :)

also the MHC aren't killed off nor is "Earthni" a thing 🤮

I'm definitely forgetting a lot of other stuff! plus the au's not wholly developed aha

[erisenyo]

Hiii <33 jumping in for the writers ask meme, 1 (I love to be awed by really big numbers lol), 3, 12 and/or 17!

Hiiiii

How many words have you written this year?

290K on AO3 plus 16K for a shibari Zukka fic I wrote but haven't been able to post yet, plus 77K of the Zukki series that still needs to get posted this month, plus 40K words already for the SWT WIP I'm carrying into next year...so 423Kish 😬

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

This is hard because I love so many things about different fics! I am still THRILLED with how To Cleave These Roots We've Made came out in terms of the fluff and angst and catharsis and how well all the flashbacks game out and integrated with the story.

But Lessons in Proper Asset Management came together so much better than I had hoped and I love the balance of comedy and porn in it, and I am still so proud of how Part-Time Plumber, Full-Time Problem turned out with the modern AU adult Zukka and the final scene with Mai and Suki.

But since I tend to be in love with whatever I'm currently working on...I'll say my Zukki series :) I know it's not all up yet but I'm so proud of how Zuko, Sokka and Suki, and the audience's view of events are all so different but all come through so clearly. It's like 3 separate stories happening at once and I'm thrilled with it!

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

Just one! Inspired by you actually lmao. It's a fic set right after canon, where Zuko (Fire Lord, teenager, Sokka's boyfriend) goes South on a diplomatic venture and meets Hakoda (Chief, adult, dad, Sokka's dad specifically) for the first time.

There's a ton of external POVs, Bato, Kanna being sassy, cross-culture misunderstanding and communication, sweetness, and the boys figuring out how to balance their relationship and their duties (as they blue ball each other over the course of a week lol).

I'm excited to pick it back up again, though I probably need to start with some editing of what's already there to get into the groove...

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

Answered here, with great difficulty lol

For the AO3 Wrapped game!