#half of my fics are named after / inspired by songs lol

[the-marshals-wife]

Nothing Else Matters (Melshi x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Sometimes you go looking for a fic and realize you have to write it yourself. Now I'm on program with a majorly fluffy, unexpectedly spicy fic for this absolute darling. Here's looking at you, Melshi girlies (I know you exist). 🤍

Description: Ruescott Melshi x Fem!Reader | Warnings: Star Wars swears, crying, sensuality, and just a mess of kisses (this straight up has some making out, I'm not sorry) | Word count: 1, 504 | Gif credit: user tommymilller

Imagine being reunited with your beloved Melshi after thinking you would never be together again

Finding out your blaster was jammed while trying to shoot a mynock off of your power generator was not on your list of plans for the evening. Neither was having to go back inside and spending the last ten minutes trying to get it unjammed.

"Dank ferrik," you grunt, straining to free the frozen safety switch. Stooped over your makeshift cargo crate table, back sore, you reach for the oil can a second time. "Come on..."

You'd tried to console yourself with the fact that you could have discovered the problem while fending off something with more teeth, or something that could shoot back, but your cramping, sore fingers taxed your optimism greatly.

"Don't do this to me." You put another drop of oil around the pin, but your focus drifts to the initials carved into the grip. 'R.M.' Your vision blurs as you push the memories away. "I'm not losing you too."

Despite your exhaustive attempts, the greased switch will not budge. Temper flaring at last, you repeatedly bang it against the side of the crate, "I won't. kriffing. lose. you!"

This last stitch effort does the trick. You exhale as switch moves freely under your thumb. "Finally!"

Your celebration is cut short, however, as you hear an alert chime from the main room. Someone is at the front door.

"What now?" you groan, gripping your blaster and successfully switching the safety off.

Peering from the doorway into the next room, you recognize the sound of the lock releasing.

You duck back out of sight against the wall. Who was slicing in? What did they want? Why would anyone even take interest in your ramshackle dwelling, especially after dark? You'd settled on Ardennia to avoid this kind of attention. Every potential scenario from thieves to Imperials races through your mind, but there is no time to plan and no where to run. This alcove had just your cot, the crate, and no backdoor. All you could do was stand your ground, and pray to the maker that your blaster would not jam again.

The door opens, and swiftly closes again. You still your breathing and listen, but there's nothing to discern. Only the low buzz of the overhead lights and the constant, distant hum of the generator outside. You're about to reveal your presence when the next sound reaches you.

"Y/N?" a voice calls out. One you know as well as your own.

"It can't be..." you say.

Your pulse pounds in your ears you step into view. The figure in the parlor before you removes the hood of their cloak.

Your heart stands still.

"Melshi?"

"Hello, sweetheart," he smiles, misty-eyed, "I'm home."

A sob escapes from your lips. You cast your weapon away and run into his open arms.

"It's you," you weep, burying your face into his shoulder, "I can't believe it's you!"

"It's me," he affirms, rocking you and kissing the top of your head.

You hold onto him as tight as you can, afraid that if you let go, he would be gone, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Me too," he replies, the words catching in his throat.

At last you let go enough to gaze up into those familiar brown eyes, full of warmth and longing.

"You're more beautiful than in my dreams," he says, caressing your face, "They could never do you justice."

"Oh, my Melshi," you beam, tears rolling down your burning cheeks.

You throw your arms around his neck and pull him into a desperate kiss that he eagerly returns. Tender kisses become more fervent with each heartbeat. You sigh, remembering how much you missed the smell of him and the feeling of his stubble lightly scratching your skin.

The two of you reluctantly stop to breathe, pulling away mere inches.

"I missed you so much," he whispers, his nose grazing yours.

"I missed you. Every single second," you reply.

Your head was spinning not only from the previous moment, but also from the many unanswered questions you'd carried in your aching chest for countless months of surviving all alone.

"Are you alright?" you beg, holding his face in your trembling hands.

"I am now," he chuckled, leaning into your touch and kissing your palm.

You choke back a sob. "Where have you been? What did they do to you?"

His expression hardens, but he continues to rub gentle circles into your back as he speaks. "An Imperial prison on Narkina 5. It was more like a factory. They had us building machinery of some kind. Thousands of us, day and night. I would still be there now if we hadn't escaped."

Horror washes over you. "Escaped? You weren't released?"

"No, they were never going to release us. They gave us sentences to serve, but it was all a lie. They were going to keep us until we died. When someone serves all their days, The Empire just sends them off to another prison somewhere. We only found out by chance, and it all fell apart from there. We fought our way out, but I don't know how many of us made it offworld," he sighed, "We've always known The Empire was corrupt, but it's so much worse than we ever thought."

You stare up at him, panic seizing you, "What are we going to do? What if The Empire comes looking for you? Could they have tracked you here?"

"I was careful. Got my hands on a forged chain code through a friend. It should buy us some time," he assured, "Tonight, we're not going to worry about anything. It's just you and I. Nothing else matters."

"They're not taking you from me again, Ruescott Melshi," you state, anger strengthening your resolve, "I have nightmares almost every night. I see those troopers dragging you away that day. I hate them for making me wonder where they'd taken you or if you were even alive. I am never going through that again, and I am never letting you go."

"You'll never have to," he assures, leaning to rest his forehead upon yours, "I'm here."

You close your eyes, his calm presence comforting you as it always did.

Several moments pass like this before he breaks the silence, "Marry me, Y/N."

"Melshi," you begin, smiling despite yourself.

"I should have asked you before. I was a scared fool, but now I have a second chance, and I won't waste it this time," he confesses, taking your hands in his. "I love you, Y/N. No matter what happens to me or this blasted galaxy, I always will. Whatever fight comes our way, I want to face it with you."

You feel as if your heart will bust. Tears fall from your stinging eyes once more as he presses a kiss to your knuckles.

"Will you have me?"

"Yes, I will," you grin, nodding, "I have been yours from the very start, and every day since. I love you so much."

He beams at your answer, proceeding to pick you up and twirl you in a circle. Your mutual laughter fills the modest room, and when your feet touch back down to the ground, your lips find his again. Muscle memory begins to kick in as you excitedly rediscover each other, both more confident than before. He rests his hand in the small of your back, pulling you close as you run your fingers through his hair. Your eyes flutter as he slowly trails kisses along your jaw to the side of your neck. His longer-than-normal stubble tickles your soft skin there, however, and you can't hold back a giggle.

Red creeps into his cheeks. "Guess I could use a shave," he chuckles.

"Maybe a little," you reply, scrunching your nose, "I actually think you could pull off a moustache."

"Oh, is that so?" he smirks.

"Yeah. Maybe just a little beard." you tease, giving his chin a peck, "I can get used to it."

"We'll have to see about that," he says, giving you a playful look.

"First things first. Let's get some more meat back on your bones," you say, squeezing his arm, "You have to be starving. I bet they fed you bantha fodder in that awful place."

"My love, you have no idea," he smiles through a sigh.

Taking his hand, you lead him over to the narrow kitchen area to sort through what provisions you had.

You were dizzy with joy. Only an hour ago, you were cursing your jammed blaster. Now the love of your life had returned to you, and you were daring to hope for your future. The force worked in such mysterious ways, and you were so grateful it had finally bestowed some favor upon you. Someday, The Empire would pay for its treachery and lies, and you hoped you'd both be there to see it. Until then, you were going to treasure every stolen moment of freedom in your second chance.

[chlerc]

— summary; he believed you when you said you would fly over to celebrate his birthday with him, excited to see your face. but he didn’t know it’d be that easy for you to leave him without a trace.

pairing — jude bellingham x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1630.

content — angst, like bad / sad ending. they don’t get a happy ever after ending. long distance friendship, she’s always here and there for him but never stayed long enough. secretly pining over each other

NAVIGATION + author’s note: wrote this when i was sick, the motivation and inspiration always strikes here. always putting my boy jude through the angsty stories lol

song recs for this fic — no one noticed.

The glow of Madrid’s street lights flickered in the corners of her vision as she adjusted her scarf, weaving through the late-night crowds that filled the cobblestone alleys of the city. Her heart beat in time with her steps, a rhythm that both grounded and unsettled her as she drew closer to his building. It felt surreal to be here — a place she’d only known through pixels and video calls, a place that lived solely in the stories he’d woven for her across distant lines.

The door swung open, and there he was — his face breaking into a grin, eyes bright with delight and something softer, something she couldn’t name but felt resonate in her chest. Without a word, he pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. “Didn’t expect you’d actually come,” he teased, though his eyes held a glint of something softer, something more grateful.

“Best birthday gift I could ask for,” he added, his tone light, yet his hold unwavering as though he feared she’d slip away. Pulling back, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his gaze lingering, studying her as though to make sure she was truly there.

“Well,” she murmured, brushing past him with a faint smile, “someone’s got to make sure you don’t spend your birthday alone.” She took in the room with its modest decor, the hints of his presence scattered in the form of art pieces, records stacked near the player, and an open notebook on the desk. He chuckled, closing the door behind her. “I told you, I don’t mind being alone.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, feigning an indifferent shrug. “But what if I do?” Her gaze met his, holding his for a moment before she turned away, pretending to inspect the records as though she hadn’t just travelled across countries to be here.

They settled into the evening slowly, an awkwardness blanketing them at first, a product of shared screens finally giving way to physical space. But eventually, laughter eased through the gaps, filling the quiet corners of his small apartment. They shared stories, exchanged quiet jokes, and lingered over glasses of wine that made the room feel warmer, the air laced with the scent of familiarity and anticipation.

As the evening deepened, they ventured out onto his balcony. The city lights stretched before them, bright and steady, twinkling with the same allure that had first drawn her to his words, to his enigmatic charm.

“Look at this view,” she whispered, her voice softened by awe. He shrugged, gazing at her instead of the skyline. “It’s just a city. It’s better with you here.” She smiled faintly, caught between the quiet euphoria of his words and the nagging reality that lingered at the edges of her mind. She knew she would leave soon, knew that this moment would end. The thought hung heavily between them, unspoken.

“Will you stay long?” he asked, finally breaking the silence, his voice a low murmur against the hum of the city. She exhaled, her breath curling in the cool night air. “I don’t know. Long enough, I suppose,” she replied, her words as carefully crafted as they were vague.

He reached out, catching her hand in his, a simple touch that anchored them amidst the unsteadiness of whatever this was. “You’re always like this,” he said, half-smiling. “Appearing out of nowhere and then vanishing like you’re a dream.”

“Maybe I am,” she murmured, meeting his gaze. “Maybe that’s all this ever was.” For a moment, the conversation hung heavy between them, layered with questions and fears neither dared voice. But then he laughed, and it softened the tension, bringing them back to a more familiar, playful place. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I should make the most of this dream while it lasts.”

Jude draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, the silence between them thick with unspoken sentiments. “You know, I don’t say this enough, but I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, his voice a murmur in the cool night air. She looked up at him, searching his expression, and a pang of something bittersweet tugged at her. She wanted to stay in this warmth, this certainty, but she knew that come dawn, she would have to slip away.

“I’m glad I came too,” she replied softly, her voice barely a whisper. Jude’s gaze was soft as he looked down at her, thumb brushing her cheek as though memorising the contours of her face. For a brief, irrational moment, she wanted to tell him everything — that she wished she could stay, that she didn’t want to leave this, leave him. But she said nothing, instead resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, each beat a fleeting reassurance she knew would fade by morning.

They leaned into the quiet closeness, the moments blurring together as the evening stretched on, her laughter mingling with his in the warm light of the city. Time drifted, unbound, until the faintest hint of dawn crept across the skyline. She glanced at him, seeing the calm softness in his eyes as they drifted shut, his breathing even, and she knew that she’d fulfilled whatever it was she’d come to do.

When he finally awoke, the first rays of morning spilling through the curtains, he found himself alone. Her scarf was still draped over the back of a chair, her perfume lingering faintly in the air. He blinked, sitting up and looking around, the remnants of last night’s laughter still fresh on his lips. But the silence pressed in, weighted and still, like a final goodbye.

On the table, she’d left a small note, folded neatly with her handwriting sprawled across the front:

“Happy Birthday. See you in the spaces between.”

He laughed quietly, though it sounded more like a sigh, tracing his fingers over the words. The irony wasn’t lost on him. She’d become his obsession, his mystery, a presence as elusive as the dreams he could never quite hold on to. And though he didn’t know when — or even if — he’d see her again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that wherever she was, some part of her would always be right here, lingering in the traces she’d left behind.

With a soft sigh, he let the silence settle around him, her absence heavy in the early morning light. Her scarf, still draped over the chair, seemed almost like a placeholder, a faint whisper of her presence against the cold, hard truth of her departure. She’d left, slipped out as quietly as she’d arrived, like a carefully crafted illusion dissipating with the dawn. He ran his hand over the note she’d left behind, her familiar handwriting tracing the words: Happy Birthday. See you in the spaces between.

He let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh, his thumb brushing over the ink, her words as gentle and evasive as she’d been. There was a charm to her mystery, an allure to the way she moved in and out of his life, almost as though she existed just beyond his reach, a mirage in a desert he didn’t know he’d been wandering. But this time, there was an ache behind his eyes, a quiet longing that tugged with a new intensity, as though some part of him had grown tired of the chase, of these small doses of her presence that he could never quite hold onto.

A sudden impulse tugged at him. He grabbed a pen from his desk, leaning over the small note she’d left. His fingers brushed the page as he wrote, the words forming slowly, deliberately, almost as though he was afraid of what they might reveal. 

“Don't leave me without a trace; it can’t be that easy please,” he wrote, his handwriting messy and sprawling in contrast to her neat scrawl. He paused, watching the ink dry, knowing she’d never see his reply, yet there was a strange comfort in writing it all the same, as if committing his thoughts to paper might somehow reach her, wherever she was.

He lingered over the note a moment longer, then folded it carefully, tucking it into a drawer with a sense of finality he didn’t quite feel. The silence that filled the room felt heavier now, loaded with the words left unsaid, the moments that had slipped through his fingers like sand.

In her absence, he found himself tracing back through their time together, each memory sharp and vivid, yet fleeting, like flashes of light in a darkened room. He recalled the way she’d laughed under the city lights, the way her voice had softened when she’d whispered, “Maybe I’m just a dream.” It was as if she’d known she would leave, had planned it all along, and he couldn’t decide whether to be grateful for the moments they’d shared or resentful of the empty space she’d left behind.

Yet he knew that her departure, as difficult as it was to accept, had always been part of her. She was as unpredictable as the wind, as elusive as a distant star, and perhaps that was what had drawn him to her in the first place. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the window, to the soft glow of morning light that seemed to fill every corner of the room with a quiet, bittersweet warmth.

And though he knew he would miss her — miss her laugh, her voice, the quiet moments they’d shared — he couldn’t shake the sense that some part of her would always linger here, an unspoken promise hanging in the air, caught between the spaces of their fleeting time together.

[throwaway-yandere]

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting. 

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either. 

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white. 

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?" 

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man. 

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts. 

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species." 

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

[neukdaez]

say my name

rating: explicit

member: euijoo

notes: song-inspired fic, fem!reader, brother's friend, acquaintances to lovers, kitchen sex, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, maki is your younger brother, appearance by nicholas

a/n: my birthday fic for euijoo! i know his birthday's done both in korea and in where i live lol but it's still the 7th somewhere!!!! the song i incorporated into this is deny's say my name, which is a taglish song but i included translations for the lyrics i used here. this is my first full one shot on this account too aaaa so please enjoy!

there's something inherently exciting about doing things you shouldn't do, in meeting people who are bad for you, in sneaking around behind shadows, ducking from sight as the adrenaline pumps through your veins.

your heartbeat is loud, but your footsteps are quiet.

hindi mo ba napapansin, kung ga'no kainit ang hangin? (don't you notice how the air's turned hot?)

we've all had those moments in our lives when we stare off into space, teetering on the edge of doing something incredibly reckless. a lot of us have these moments more than once. sometimes more than once a day. you've had your fair share of internal battles about a risky decision, but this is the first time you can actually feel the suffocation creeping up on you as you rattle off your internal monologue.

but first, you need to find maki and wring his neck.

your brother has a friend. nicholas. and nicholas, in turn, has another friend.

euijoo.

and maki being the outgoing person he is, quickly became euijoo's friend, too. nevermind that nicholas and euijoo are both four years older than maki and are in their junior year of college while your little weasel of a brother is still in high school.

he met them in dance class, apparently. and they're thick as thieves.

so much so that they're in your living room right now, hogging the couch while they watch dance video after dance video on the tv.

this isn't a particularly new scene to witness. maki invites them over at least twice a week, and thanks to your parents' taste for the grander things in life, your living room has more than enough space for a bunch of young men to do their thing.

again, what business two twenty-somethings have in casually coming to a seventeen-year-old's house to hang out is beyond you. but you digress.

because at least maki has the sense to make friends with cute guys.

euijoo stands out to you, in particular. you're not sure why but there's definitely something about him. maybe it's his eyes, round and cute, like little cartoon saucers. or maybe it's his height. tall men are always a plus.

whatever it is, it's what's causing your inner turmoil, the more rational part of your brain fighting it out with the part of your brain that just makes you want to throw yourself at him.

wait, what?

you're at the top of the stairs, in the tiniest tank top you own, and while your lower half is safely covered in your pajama pants, the tight fit around your waist might raise some eyebrows (or catch eyes). the reasonable voice in your head tells you to cover up. you have visitors, for god's sake! but the small, mischievous whisper tells you to fuck it, flaunt it all to your brother's hot friends.

maybe you're overthinking it.

except, you aren't, because you're not blind and definitely not stupid.

nicholas did a double take the first time you met them, eyes scanning over you quickly. he's been tame since then, only greeting you curtly, but with a friendly enough smile nonetheless. then he turns back to his phone, typing away furiously. probably texting a girlfriend.

but euijoo's eyes linger. and while that may not mean anything now, you know that men are simple creatures. sauntering in front of him wearing what you're wearing now will definitely have him looking.

maybe you want him to look.

kalamnan ay unti-unting 'di maramdaman, natitirang konsensya, 'di na rin nadatnan (can't feel my insides, can't find what little conscience i have)

you climb down the stairs, your footsteps emitting soft thuds on the carpeted floor. your eyes stay true toward the direction of the kitchen, but a movement by the couch makes you shift your gaze.

you catch euijoo's eye briefly as he cranes his neck to look at you. you're still walking, albeit a little slower now. you fight the urge to smile when euijoo lets his line of sight fall to your chest.

"hey guys," you greet nonchalantly, breaking eye contact with euijoo. you glance at nicholas this time, sitting alone on the single-seater. he smiles warmly at you, giving a small wave.

maki is too engrossed in his phone to witness anything that's happening around him, particularly with his doe-eyed friend beside him on the couch.

"can you get me a soda from the fridge?" maki calls out to you as you enter the kitchen. you roll your eyes. ugh, little brothers.

you throw the refrigerator door open, snatching the four-pack of sodas. you pull one out for yourself, kicking the fridge shut before heading back out to the living room.

you press your soda to your neck, exhaling at the sensation against your warm skin. you extend your hand between maki and euijoo from behind the couch, handing them the rest of the sodas.

euijoo takes them from you, hand brushing against yours, and god does it feel like a predictable spicy romcom moment.

"thanks," euijoo says in his sweet honey voice. his lips turn up in the smallest of smiles.

"you're welcome," you reply, keeping your expression mostly neutral, raising your eyebrows in acknowledgement.

you turn away, making your way back to the stairs. you start your ascent and just before you disappear into the second floor, you give one final peek over the banister.

euijoo smiles once more as your eyes meet.

---

you still want to wring maki's neck. but maybe also reward him with a fat wad of cash.

it's late into the night and you're sure euijoo and nicholas have left. you heard the front door slam open and shut about an hour ago and you're certain you heard maki enter his room a little after that. so you practically frolicked down into the kitchen, in dire need of a midnight snack. your parents are conveniently off at an overnight business function so no one would give you shit for banging around with the pots and pans.

you're in the process of rummaging through the ramyeon drawer, scrutinizing the different flavors, when you hear a noise behind you. your heart seizes up in your chest as you spin around, bracing yourself against the counter, eyes wide in shock.

"euijoo?!"

the young man stands in the kitchen doorway, clad in what you can only identify as sleepwear of his own. his face mirrors yours, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"sorry, just wanted to get some water," euijoo quickly apologizes, holding his hands out defensively.

you exhale, stance relaxing as you watch him shuffle uncertainly towards the other side of the kitchen. the only thing that stands between the two of you is the kitchen island.

"maki didn't tell me you guys were sleeping over," you point out, ramyeon long forgotten behind you.

"then again, he never tells me anything," you add. euijoo chuckles.

he's retrieved a glass from a cupboard and before you can think further ahead, you reach over to the fridge beside you, ducking to get the pitcher from within.

it's now that you realize that you're practically sticking your ass out for euijoo to ogle at. you nearly giggle at the thought.

you straighten up, turning to place the water on the island. euijoo is leaning over the marble, eyeing you. you're not quite sure how his expression reads, but you smile politely, sliding the pitcher towards him.

"where's maki, anyway?" you ask.

"with nicholas. nico brought his car and they, uh...," euijoo trails off, silencing himself as he pours the water into his glass.

you cock your head to the side. "did you just send my underage brother out to buy alcohol?"

euijoo purses his lips, not saying a word. he clears his throat, seemingly suppressing a smile.

you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. opening your eyes, you see euijoo is looking at you over the rim of his glass as he drinks. you stare back, crossing your arms.

"well, i had my suspicions," you declare. "i started around his age, too."

euijoo nods, setting his glass down. "i see where he gets it from."

you narrow your eyes and euijoo looks back at you innocently.

"why didn't you go along with them?" you question, leaning over the island casually. you're still wearing the tank top from earlier and euijoo doesn't hide the fact that he's still looking.

to his credit, there seems to be the faintest blush on his cheeks. so, he's not completely shameless, at least.

"and leave you here alone? come on, i'm more of a gentleman than that," euijoo says, tone easy. he plants his hands on the island, mirroring you as he leans closer across from you.

i wanna do the things i never tried with ya', i wanna hear you say my name now, won't ya'

"that's very thoughtful of you," you supply appreciatively. euijoo smiles.

"the pleasure is mine, _______."

the sound of your name leaving euijoo's lips sends you back to the hypothetical edge, standing over a steep drop into shame.

are you really this kind of older sibling? flirting with your brother's friend, dressed in ridiculously thin clothing, practically laying yourself out on a big, wide, flat surface? you might as well spell it out for him at this point.

"when are they coming back?" you ask, resting your chin on your palm. you're properly bent over the island now. if euijoo had no idea a few minutes ago, he sure as hell knows what's up by now.

euijoo turns his back to you for a moment, placing the now empty glass in the sink. he looks down at you from where he's standing and glances away briefly as if thinking.

"in a bit," he begins, coming around the counter. your breath hitches as you follow him with your eyes, heart thumping as he stops behind you.

you turn, leaning back against the marble now as euijoo watches you. every blink, every time you shift your weight, every breath, it feels like he's taking it all in.

"it's a friday night, so the traffic might be hell out there," euijoo points out. "i'd say that's another twenty minutes or so. give or take."

baby, hindi na makahinga, i'm suffocating pero hindi masama (baby, can't breathe anymore, i'm suffocating, but it's not bad)

"what do you wanna do till then?" you press on, batting your eyes at the man in front of you. one side of his mouth turns up in a smirk.

he's cute enough that it looks almost endearing. but the sparkle in his eye points to something else.

"whatever takes twenty minutes or so to do," euijoo suggests with a raise of his brow. he steps closer and you're almost toe to toe.

i kinda like it, adrenalina'y tumatakbo, dibdib ay kumakabog, sa tubig kinakapos (i kinda like it, adrenaline's running, chest is pounding, running short on water)

you reach out but euijoo beats you to whatever you're trying to do. his hand circles your wrist as he moves even closer.

kalamnan ay unti-unting 'di maramdaman, natitirang konsensya, 'di na rin nadatnan (can't feel my insides, can't find what little conscience i have)

euijoo's other hand lays on your hip. he ducks his head so he's level with your face. you breathe in and euijoo grins.

isang utos mo lang, hindi na mahindian, bae (just one command and i can't say no to you, bae)

in your head, you're cursing how he's so stupidly hot and cute and charming at the same time that you'd have no problem doing whatever it is he wants you to.

"kiss me," euijoo dares, eyebrows rising for a second, as if in challenge.

it's embarrassing how loud you moan once euijoo's lips are on yours. your hands immediately come up to cup at his face and his own palms smooth around your waist, up your back, before descending again to ultimately rest on your ass.

euijoo is a damn good kisser and you can barely keep up with every slide of his tongue on yours and every pass of his lips over your parted ones.

euijoo's hands move to your shoulders, pointer fingers hooking through the thin straps of your top, pulling them down. you gasp against euijoo's mouth, your chest exposed in its near entirety.

you pull back, watching with labored breaths as euijoo tugs the front of your shirt down, letting one of your tits hang out. you bite your lip as he takes ahold of it, squeezing gently. his other hand maneuvers itself beneath the waistband of your pajamas, wriggling under your underwear, before finally finding purchase against the heat between your legs.

it's pathetic, really, how quickly you turn to putty under euijoo's touch. a man you've known for barely a few weeks, pulling at your every string, playing you like a fiddle.

"cute," euijoo murmurs, leaning in to plant a brief kiss on the side of your mouth.

euijoo draws small, tight circles on your clit and you squirm, knuckles white as you grasp onto the counter behind you. you tuck your chin against your chest, squeezing your eyes shut when you feel euijoo tease at your entrance.

euijoo's hold on your breast disappears and instead, he gently handles one side of your face, tilting your head up. you meet his eyes just as he plunges one finger into you.

your eyes flutter shut and euijoo kisses you again, hot and messy and slick with both of your spit. he adds another finger and you whine, hips stuttering against his hand. your knees feel weak and you're convinced they're ready to give out.

euijoo pumps in and out of your slowly, letting your wetness coat his fingers. he curls his digits just as he pushes up and you clench down, a pleasurable heat spreading across your body.

"fuck, euijoo," you whisper. he pulls back slightly, observing your expressions.

"tell me when you're close," euijoo instructs. his voice has dropped, making you shiver.

euijoo picks up his speed, curling his fingers periodically, movements almost calculated like he's done this a million times before. the thought of euijoo being experienced, mastering the ins and outs of this, makes your whole body prickle with excitement.

"c-close," you manage to whimper out.

euijoo maintains his speed but presses harder and harder each time against your spongy walls. you clamp a hand over your mouth as you feel your belly tighten.

"euijoo, i'm gonna—oh my god!"

your orgasm wipes all coherent thoughts from your head, knocking the air out of you in one fell swoop. euijoo wraps an arm around your torso, keeping you upright as you ride your high out on his fingers. he presses his lips to your temple as you start to calm down, chest rising and falling rapidly.

euijoo pulls his hand from your pajamas, holding your gaze as he licks his fingers clean of you. your face burns but you can't look away, mesmerized by the way his lips and tongue move.

don't gotta get emotions if it's okay with ya', but I might fuck around and catch feelings for ya'

euijoo smiles, eyes raking over your disheveled form.

"we better hurry," euijoo speaks up, dipping down to kiss you. you taste yourself faintly on his mouth,

you tug your pajamas and underwear down, letting them fall to the floor. you kick them off to the side, pulling back as euijoo does the same. your eyes travel down to see his cock standing red and angry against his stomach.

"like what you see?" euijoo asks playfully, a hand coming down to stroke at his shaft a few times.

you bite down on your lip, trying to suppress a grin. euijoo chuckles, large hands taking hold of your hips. he maneuvers you to face away from him, your front digging into the marble of the kitchen counter.

you lean forward, letting your front squish against the surface, back arched perfectly. you hear euijoo whistle lowly, a hand smoothing down your back.

"looking good, _______," euijoo compliments, knees knocking against your thighs, signaling you to part them. you adjust your stance, exposing more of yourself to euijoo.

"that's it," euijoo mutters and you feel something poke against your waiting hole.

you let out a mix of a sigh of relief and a choked-up sob as you feel euijoo push in. you crane your neck to see what euijoo's doing and his eyebrows are knit together, concentration on his features as he fills you all the way in.

you see his eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out, hands automatically gripping at your waist, keeping you steady.

euijoo starts moving and your head drops onto the counter. the stretch feels euphoric, euijoo's cock dragging deliciously against your walls.

"euijoo," you whine. his hips snap up repeatedly, pace starting to pick up as he loses himself in your cunt.

"so good," euijoo whispers. "you feel amazing, _______."

you preen at his words, burying your face in your folded arms. the angle lets him hit that spot deep within you perfectly and you already feel the beginnings of your second orgasm creeping up.

you gasp softly as you feel fingers tangling themselves in your hair and you cry out fully when you feel euijoo tug your head back by your locks.

"fuck, come here, angel," euijoo implores, an arm around your midsection as he pulls you against him.

euijoo's holding you up all by himself and you let him, too weakened by the way he's fucking into you.

euijoo's movements quicken, thrusts turning shallow as he ruts against you. you wonder for a moment if it's possible to go mad over cock. the thought is a ridiculous one, but with the way euijoo fucks you, harsh yet contained, with all the finesse and enthusiasm combined, you start to think it might not be too much of a stretch.

euijoo presses his mouth behind your ear, sucking lightly and you shiver, his breath tickling your sensitive skin.

"where?" euijoo asks, voice strained. it's obvious he's holding his release back.

it takes you a second to register his question and euijoo grunts softly, movements now erratic.

"where do you want it, angel?" euijoo repeats.

"inside," you say, walls clenching down as you feel your own orgasm approach. "please, inside."

it doesn't take long for euijoo's hips to stutter, fucking into you at a brutal pace for a few seconds before he stills, spilling himself deep in you. the feeling of him finishing inside sends you over the edge in turn, euijoo's name falling loudly from your mouth.

euijoo lets go of you and you slump over the counter, sweaty and spent. he slowly pulls out and you wince, pushing yourself upright with shaky arms.

"put this on, quick," euijoo reminds, handing you your underwear and bottoms. "before you, uh, make a mess on your kitchen floor."

you blush violently at his words, hurriedly pulling your clothes back on. euijoo does the same, wordlessly putting on his pajama pants.

you make eye contact and a second goes by without either of you saying a word. a moment later, the two of you burst out in silent giggles.

"i'd say that was about twenty minutes," euijoo comments, rubbing the back of his neck, a sudden shyness overcoming his demeanor.

before you can get a word out, you hear the front door slam open, hushed voices carrying through the house to the kitchen.

"_______? are you awake?" maki asks.

you and euijoo exchange a look.

[grape-jucie-dog]

I'm going on a yap session about my Devil AU because 600 Strike actually gave me an idea. This is a long post so I apologize-

Ok so if you're new and aren't aware of the Devil AU, THAT'S TOTALLY FINE. I haven't posted much about it here on Tumblr, and I'm not a huge creator or anything, so of course not many people know of it.

The Devil AU is an AU where Athena plots to overthrow Zeus after the events of Epic the musical. This AU was inspired by Teagan's song, DEVIL, hence the name. There are two storylines with this AU: The canon version, where all of the Gods help her overthrow Zeus, and the non canon version, where the gods are against the idea, which makes Athena snap at them too. Originally it took place after God Games, but there's a fic I wrote that gave me a better idea and a better motive for Athena.

The main motives are:

The death of Pallas. I know there's a few people who don't believe Pallas and Athena were lovers, but I like to think at the VERY least it was one-sided love or a QPR. Whatever the relationship was (friends, one sided, lovers, family even), this really shook Athena. I like to think Zeus truly didn't mean to harm Pallas, but in this AU he was extremely dismissive about her death, which greatly upset Athena.

God Games of course. In Greek Mythology, it's said that Athena is Zeus' favorite child, and she does basically whatever he orders her to do. And the one time she asks him for something, he strikes her with lightning that leaves her with scars and seizures? I'd be pissed too.

The death of the royal family. In this AU, Zeus kills Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus as a punishment, believing Athena was "getting too soft". This of course REALLY shakes Athena up, and it's her final straw before she completely snaps.

Now, I know this AU will take A LOT of time in the story. There needs to be enough time for Athena to heal more from her injuries, and plotting to kill the king of gods and your own father would definitely take a lot of time to do. I don't have a confident timeline just yet, BUT, I do have weapons.

Athena has two new weapons. Well, technically one, but we'll get to that in a second. I gave her these metal claws to represent talons, mostly because I thought it was cool, and also because the vivid image of Athena scratching one of Zeus' eyes out lives rent free in my head. The other thing is an upgrade to her spear, which doubles as a Scythe as well now. In the main/official storyline, Hephaestus gives these to her. In the no canon version of the AU, Athena basically steals them.

Now for the idea 600 Strike ended up giving me

Originally, I was gonna have Athena fight Zeus alone. She gets pretty battered, but she ends up defeating him by slicing him in half with her scythe (after getting her arm snapped by Zeus-). I'm probably going to keep this for the non canon story tbh, anyways-

600 strike made me picture Athena and the other gods all fighting Zeus (I'm tempted to throw Ody in the fight because of Hades being like "lol let's piss him off more by bringing Odysseus). Zeus laughs in their faces, being all like "You're too weak to stop me" and Athena goes "Oh really?" and uses her Scythe to slice off his limbs. Then it turns back into a spear, and she stabs him repeatedly. And after that she uses her claws to dig into him further before resulting to just punching the absolutely daylights out of him. Eventually Ares pulls her away from Zeus (who's definitely knocked TF out after all of that), and Athena finally gets her revenge for everything Zeus has done.

That's basically it. I'm still kind of developing this AU and trying to fill in the plot holes, BUT LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK! And feel free to ask me questions or give me suggestions :3

And I'm so sorry this post is so long-

[ghost-1-y]

trust me - sanemi shinazugawa

Pairing: sanemi x afab!tsuguko!reader

!!PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING!!

TW: major character death (reader), no happy ending (hurt/no comfort), mentions & descriptions of gore & injury, brief thoughts of self-harm (Sanemi - briefly mentioned, doesn’t actually happen), consensual sex (Sanemi and reader are 18+), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, handjob, oral (m! and f! receiving), creampie, Sanemi is pussy drunk in this lmao; spanking (happens once), slight manhandling, praise kink, spitting kink(?) (Sanemi spits in readers mouth), (very) slight olfactophilia, brief mention of vomit (again, doesn’t actually happen), mention of scars (Sanemi and reader) MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI - I WILL BLOCK YOU

CW: fluff; general angst; arguments between Sanemi and reader; Sanemi is a bit of a meanie at times :/ (aka Sanemi being Sanemi); mentions of food/eating; descriptions of wound care; love confessions; Sanemi uses the following pet names for reader: “baby”, “pretty”, “beautiful”, and “sweetheart”

Word Count: ~6.2k

A/N: this is my first fic, so I hope that y’all enjoy it! I’m not gonna lie I was superrr nervous to post this lol so please be nice🥲🥲 I’ll probably do a fluffy comfort fic for Sanemi after this to make up for the pain lol; also wanted to let y’all know that this was half-inspired by the song “Fragile” by Laufey, so go give that a listen if you’d like!

Quiet. 

As the dewy drops of the morning mist came into contact with his bare hands, Sanemi noted the silence of the sunrise – one would believe that its light denoted respite, a time of peace – something beautiful to behold as its rays began to gently sweep across the grassy field. He could not yet hear the calls of the mourning dove, for it was too early for the birds to grace anyone’s ears with their softening sounds.

However, as Sanemi continued his way through the tall blades, his hands wet with the remnants of night, respite gave way to apprehension, and the misty air was filled with a sense of malaise.

For the mist that lowly hovered above the grass was red.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

One year ago.

“You can’t expect me to treat you differently from them.” Sanemi pointed his blade to the lower-ranked slayers on the sidelines of the training grounds, those who hadn’t passed out yet being completely keeled over or having nearly drowned themselves in water to stave off the summer heat. “If you want to handle stronger opponents, I need to ensure that you are trained well enough to do so.”

Having been at the point of near-exhaustion herself, Y/N could barely muster a reply. “I know, Shinazugawa-san,” she panted while looking up at him from her not-so-flattering position on the ground. “Why else do you think I’m here? ‘s not like I enjoy being trained half-to-death,” she replied sarcastically.

Sanemi’s glare met her. “You should consider yourself lucky that I was gracious enough to let you train under me. At the rate you’re going, I’d half expect you to move down a rank, rather than up one.” He walked towards her and, despite his cold nature, offered Y/N his scarred hand. “Get up. I’m not lettin’ you go until you can knock me down to my knees.”

A challenge she knew to be nearly impossible with the skill level she was currently at, Y/N wondered if her rank of Hinoto meant anything against the Wind Pillar himself. She took his roughened hand in hers and stood up, and, after a poor attempt at dusting the dirt off of her uniform, steeled herself once more for the upcoming attack from the man glaring across from her. 

Sanemi tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and started lunging toward her.

–––––

Y/N continued to train under Sanemi’s watch, each day somehow more grueling than the last. She woke up at the god-awful hours of the morning and trained until midnight. This repeated day in and day out for weeks, with seemingly nothing to show for it except a bunch of creative insults that she’d managed to add to her arsenal after receiving them from Sanemi himself.

“You’re not using your sword correctly,” he pointed out. It was always something, she thought – her stance was wrong, her breathing wasn’t efficient enough, and now she apparently couldn’t even hold her sword correctly.

By the time she looked up at Sanemi, frustrated with her apparent inadequacies, he was no longer in front of her, having walked around so that her back faced him. He placed his hand on her forearm, “just– move your arms here…good, and your hands should be like this–” he spoke softly into her ear as he adjusted her grip to what he deemed satisfactory. Y/N was thankful that Sanemi stood behind her as she felt an intense warmth flood across her cheeks. By the time he was finished, Y/N noted the lightest blush on the tips of his ears as he returned to his original spot and took his own offensive stance, clearly not intending nor wanting to address the familiarity of his previous actions. 

“Now you don’t have any excuses to have such a shitty attack pattern,” he quipped, before engaging her in battle once more.

As months passed, the Wind Pillar slowly transitioned from insults to providing Y/N with actual guidance, and she was slowly reminded of why exactly she requested to become his Tsuguko in the first place. One day, while she was taking her thirty-minute lunch break at the wooden chabudai inside of the Wind Pillar’s estate, Sanemi sat next to her and started to eat his own meal. He refused to look at her, but the words he uttered from his mouth sent relief through her veins.

“You’ve gotten stronger.”

Unsure of how to respond, as compliments were rare coming from the usually rather hostile Pillar, Y/N simply nodded and whispered a “thank you,” continuing to pick at her food. Eventually, she looked over at him and noticed that he was frowning at the wooden chabudai before him, an internal conflict seemingly battling out in his mind.

“I have a mission I’ve been assigned to, I’d like you to come with me.”

His words were quiet, almost hesitant.

“You want me to assist you?” she asked, mainly because she didn’t believe Sanemi had trusted her enough to bring her on a mission assigned to a Hashira, much less himself.

Sanemi nodded in response. “Lower-ranked slayers have been going missing in one of the nearby mountains,” he sighed. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have named them slayers in the first place if they’re stupid enough to get caught by some demon.” He paused, and then finally looked at her. “I think that you’re capable enough to help me should things get out of hand,” he added quietly.

A sense of warmth flooded through her, and she smiled at him, grateful that he had finally acknowledged the hard work she’d put into all of her training. “Thank you, Shinazugawa-san. I promise that I will do my best.”

Sanemi thought to himself that he would like to see more of that smile.

“Don’t think that just ‘cause I’ve seen you improve that it means I’m gonna let you take it easy from here on out,” he said as he stood up. “Also, if you get into trouble on this mission, I want you to call for me immediately. Don’t get yourself into some shit you can’t handle,” he added, and his gaze upon her suddenly hardened as the words left his mouth. “Let me deal with it if things get too difficult.”

With that, he left to head back towards the training grounds.

–––––

That night, Y/N followed closely behind as Sanemi hiked up the mountain, with the bitter cold becoming more apparent as patches of snow were slowly augmented by the tiny flakes falling around them. Every once in a while, they’d find some blood splatter or human entrails, with such carnage becoming more frequent as they continued their trek. 

Eventually, Sanemi stopped – Y/N had learned to trust his instinct when he sensed that something was off. Sanemi brushed his hand over the hilt of his sword and gripped it tightly, his muscles tensing with anticipation, which caused Y/N to echo his actions and grab her own sword, holding it so that she was prepared for any possible enemy attack.

Or so she thought.

A blast of icy wind came from her right, forcing Y/N to close her eyes lest her corneas were to freeze from the frigid temperature. Sanemi, however, immediately chased after the source – his speed something frightening to behold. After a futile attempt to follow him, Y/N found herself swarmed by fifteen demons, all of whom were nearly identical to each other, as they all possessed the same pale blue skin and white hair. After a few attacks, Y/N also noted that their blood demon art was the same: one that would allow them to manipulate freezing winds and ice however they pleased.

Y/N was able to hear Sanemi in the distance, easily decapitating what seemed to be a larger swarm than what she was presently dealing with. Just how many of them are there? Y/N thought as she made her way through twelve of the demons, decapitating each one until an attack managed to hit her mid-air – causing a sharp ice fragment to deeply slice open her upper thigh. Gritting through the pain, she finished off the final three demons that she’d been fighting before slowly limping toward a nearby tree to assess the damage of her wound. It seemed as though Sanemi’s battle was also over, as Y/N could hear nothing but the howling of the mountainous winds as he walked back over to where they both had split up.

Once Sanemi caught sight of her, his shoulders seemed to relax. However, such relief was temporary once he eyed her bleeding thigh, and immediately began rushing over to her, pulling out some spare gauze that he had stored on his person and a wave of anger that she couldn’t describe filling the violet hues of his eyes.

“What did I fuckin’ tell you? To stay back and let me handle it, yet you’re so stupid that you can’t even obey direct orders,” Sanemi spat at her as he started bandaging the deep laceration on her thigh, taking careful consideration of the pressure and tightness of the gauze wrap he was using. Each time she winced, he would look up from her injury, and his violet eyes would meet hers. However, there was no malice of the words he spewed at her within his expanded pupils.

Y/N sharply inhaled before responding. “I’m sorry! But you’re the one who went on ahead and left me with them! I had to–”

“No. You didn’t have to, you fuckin’ dumbass. That’s where you’re wrong – you didn’t have to put yourself in danger just because I was off dealing with something else. Fuckin’ think next time and maybe I wouldn’t have to be cleaning you up like this,” he lightly choked on the last few words, yet continued wrapping up her wound, hands gentle and considerate of her pain. Y/N huffed at his impossible reasoning and looked down at him with a hardened stare.

He looked into her eyes once more, his grip on her uninjured leg tightening. “I don’t- I can’t fuckin’ lose someone else,” he stated, a rare glimpse of vulnerability from inside his tortured heart. At that, Y/N dropped her stare and hesitantly placed her hand upon his tensed one.

“I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-san, I promise that next time will be different. I’ll get stronger, so you won’t have to go to such lengths for me.” She gave him a reassuring smile, and his hand relaxed as he continued his work on her wounded leg. With the sun still rising over the horizon, she couldn’t make out the brimming of tears on his waterline before he blinked them away.

It was a side of Sanemi that Y/N hadn’t seen before – but before she could indulge herself to begin examining every crevice of emotion that the Wind Pillar had put on display for her, his attitude changed once again to one of apparent indifference.

“Don’t apologize – just listen to me next time,” he stated as he finished wrapping up her leg. Once a couple of hours passed and the Kakushi had arrived to clean up the aftermath, he stood up and grabbed Y/N’s arm to pull her up from her sitting position. Sanemi then took the same arm and put it around his shoulder, allowing her to use him as a crutch as they both walked to the wagon brought by one of the Kakushi in the aftermath of the battle.

The ride to the Butterfly Mansion was mostly quiet. Sanemi, despite not being injured himself, decided to stay with Y/N as she slept on the floor of the wagon. The cold of the early morning seemed to be permeating Y/N’s skin as she shivered in her sleep. Always aware of his surroundings, Sanemi looked at her with concern and took off his haori, feeling slightly flushed as he placed it on top of her as a makeshift blanket, blaming the warmth of his cheeks on the cold morning air. He sat down next to her, crossing his arms and closing his eyes to alleviate some of his own fatigue.

It didn’t help that in his dreams, his body was keeping her warm instead.

–––––

Once Y/N had woken up, she first noted the sanitary scent of the patient room assigned to her. Having awoken from the gentle knock on the door, she looked to see Aoi entering with some gauze and antibiotics.

Sanemi was nowhere in sight.

“I’m glad you’re awake. I’m here to perform some general wound care for you. I’ll be changing your dressings, alright?” Aoi looked at her, and once she received a nod from Y/N, she proceeded to unwrap the layers of gauze and started to inspect the wound.

“There is some slight inflammation,” she observed as she lightly pressed against the sides of the laceration with her gloved hands, which exhibited some redness and swelling. “I’m going to be prescribing you some antibiotics in order to prevent any potential infections.” She started applying some antibiotic ointment directly to the wound, and Y/N winced at the stinging pain that it caused. Once satisfied, Aoi carefully rewrapped the wound with a new set of gauze. “Your antibiotics will need to be taken orally with food and water once a day. Make sure you complete the entire course that I prescribe so that you don’t face any further complications down the line.” 

All Y/N could do was nod silently, and once Aoi determined that she would follow directions, she left the room.

–––––

Despite wanting to thank him for helping her in the aftermath of the battle, Y/N had not seen Sanemi even once during her recovery process. She wondered if he had gone back to his estate, but it still struck her as odd that he didn’t at least come by to berate her for the lack of judgment she possessed in the midst of the fight.

Maybe he got it all out of his system when he was wrapping up my wound, she thought to herself.

During her stay as a patient, Aoi mentioned to Y/N that due to the cut slicing through the muscle of her leg, it could take weeks or even months to recover. Since Y/N had not yet mastered Total Concentration Breathing: Constant, Aoi explained that it may take longer to heal compared to if a Hashira had such an injury.

Y/N wondered if Sanemi no longer trusted her skills as a slayer.

She wondered if Sanemi ever had any trust in her at all. 

The very thought caused bile to rise in her throat. She wanted him to be proud of her, to trust her – just as she did with him.

Y/N slowly got up from her bed and walked outside to sit on the engawa of the Butterfly Mansion. The moon’s rise was slow, and the soft chirp of crickets could be heard from the nearby trees. Once sat, she admired the garden owned by the Insect Pillar herself – with beautiful azaleas and hydrangea plants shaping pathways throughout the grounds. Y/N closed her eyes and basked in the moonlight rays that shone upon the estate – that is, until her ears heard the softest creak of wood coming from behind her.

“Shinazugawa-san?” She softly whispered once she turned to see who it was, as though the peace of the night would be disturbed should she speak any louder.

Sanemi said nothing, but then moved quietly to sit down next to her – if Y/N hadn’t known any better, she would’ve believed that he was solely there just to admire the moonlit garden as well. His eyes appeared a soft, yet dark hue of indigo in the cool moonlight – they bore none of the usual aggression that they carried when around others.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Y/N asked him quietly, gaze fixed upon him, and he nodded. 

“Would be prettier if it didn’t cause so much needless death.”

She couldn’t argue at all. He was right – and would be until demons had been eradicated off the face of the earth, but that didn’t stop her from wishing that things were different.

Sanemi sighed and finally looked at her, and his eyes screamed ‘loss’. 

He was fragile. He wasn’t the roughened-up, aggressive, insolent slayer that others saw him as. Rather, it was his scars that held him together by threads, and it was his heart that silently called out to her – to “hold me, please.”

And so she did.

Y/N slowly slid her arms around him and had them reach up towards his nape. The sigh he emitted came from his chest, and Sanemi’s grip tightened around her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His eyes closed and brows furrowed, focused on nothing but the gentle touch of her skin against his. His mouth was slightly parted, lips pressed softly near her collarbone as he breathed against her.

His touch was warm.

She wished to feel more of it, to let it utterly consume her until all that she could feel was him. 

Once he parted from her, Y/N looked into his eyes and felt the need to speak. “I- uh, I wanted to thank you for helping me with my wound after the battle,” she admitted softly. In response, his eyes hardened again and looked down at her bandaged leg.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied shortly before getting up. Soon after, Y/N found herself alone on the engawa once again, although the peaceful silence of the night had been replaced with a feeling of despondency that she couldn’t quite place.

–––––

By the time she recovered from her injury, it seemed as though Sanemi had done the impossible by making Y/N’s training even more difficult. Not a day went by when she wasn’t completely collapsed on the ground by sunset. It only took a few days before dark shadows under her eyes became visible, and her muscles ached.

Gone too was Sanemi’s softer side. Instead, it seemed as though their relationship was right back where it started, sans the fact that he seemed to slightly tense every single time he caught a glimpse of her scarred leg.

The sun had set, and Sanemi was yelling at Y/N to complete one more series of reps before retiring for the night. The problem, however, was that Y/N’s legs had become gelatinous and were shaking beyond her control, and despite all the willpower that she had sustained within her, it wasn’t enough to pick herself up off the ground.

“Are you really that fuckin’ weak that you can’t even stand up by yourself?” he spat. “You should’ve never become a slayer – this shit is too dangerous for people like you. All you will ever be is demon fodder. Fuckin’ give up and leave the corps if that’s how you’re going to treat the training I give you.” His insults were never-ending, and given how exhausted she was, it took everything within her to not cry at his words.

“I’m fucking trying, Shinazugawa-san!” she choked out. “What the hell did I do for you to treat me this way? Have I not done enough already?” With tears brimming in her eyes, she musters up the courage to ask the question she’s been wondering since that night on the battlefield.

“Do you not have any trust in me at all?” she cried.

Sanemi scoffed and glared at her. “You need to earn my trust, and until you’re able to complete the training I give you without collapsing to the ground like some low-ranked slayer, then you won’t have it.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and she ignored the tightening sensation in her throat as she resolved to bite back at the cruel man before her.

“Bullshit,” she spat. “You thought I was capable enough to assist you on the last mission. Don’t lie by saying I’ve never earned your trust before.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes. “So what? Maybe I did trust you – before the mission. But you fucking broke it by getting hurt!” he seethed, eyes wide as he looked down at her. 

“Maybe if you were capable enough to not get yourself wounded during the fight, then I might’ve still had some trust in you,” he admitted. “You think that I’m just gonna trust someone who gets their leg nearly sliced off to be able to handle themselves?”

“Is that what this is all about? ‘Cause I got some stupid cut on my leg? You can’t be serious–”

“Shut the fuck up. You know damn well it wasn’t just a cut. What if you had gotten slashed somewhere else? What if it had been more severe? What if you–” he didn’t wish to complete that sentence, lest he spoke the thought into existence.

It was the first time she’d seen Sanemi with tears in his eyes.

“It would’ve been my fault, Y/N! My fucking fault if something happened to you! I already told you, I can’t fucking lose someone else. I’ve already lost so many people, and I–” he watched as Y/N stood up, despite the obvious exhaustion in her legs, and walked towards him. “I can’t lose you, too,” he confessed, his voice softer than the wind that gently breezed through her hair. A tear had found its way down his cheek – just over the scar that was bestowed upon him by his own mother. As if by instinct, Y/N wiped it away with the pad of her thumb, but she did not part from his face. Instead, she proceeded to trace her thumb over the jagged scar, and he surprisingly leaned into the touch of her palm against his cheek, his eyes frantically searching her own. She smiled at him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“You have me, Sanemi.”

The groan that he voiced was soft, yet guttural – as though it came from deep within his chest, and he placed his hands on either side of her face, his eyes looking at her with utmost adoration and care, and his lips brushed softly against hers, and Y/N’s eyes were nearly sent reeling back before he closed the gap.

The pleasurable gasp that she emitted caused him to smile into the kiss, his lips slightly chapped, but gentle and loving with how they caressed hers, as though she would shatter under the slightest touch, or that she was a goddess and he a sinner seeking repentance by worshiping her.

“Fuck…wanted to do this for so long,” he breathed against her and his kisses became more needy – something fully welcomed by Y/N as she wrapped her arms around him and her fingers found purchase in his unruly hair. When he parted from her lips, a string of saliva connected his mouth to hers, which only broke as he went back to kiss her with his then swollen lips. He groaned once more before picking her up and carrying her over his shoulder, causing Y/N to yelp in surprise.

“Not letting you go anywhere, baby,” Sanemi grinned and smacked Y/N’s ass as he took her to his estate’s bedroom, which prompted her to roll her eyes at his antics. Yet, she couldn’t help but smile as he gently placed her on his futon and kissed her once more. “Can’t fuckin’ get enough of you, pretty,” he stated before moving down to her neck, where he licked and sucked until he found her pulse point, at which point Y/N moaned softly. “That’s right…feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, knowing full well what her answer was even before she tried to nod her head.

“Sa- Sanemi…” she gasped, her hand cradling the back of his head as he left messy kisses up and down her neck.

“Sound so fuckin’ beautiful, keep saying my name like that, hm?” As he continued kissing her, his hands rose towards the top button of her uniform, a question of “Can I?” to which Y/N nodded. He unbuttoned her top, kissing down her chest and stomach until the clothing was fully removed. In return, Y/N helped remove the bindings that covered her breasts, letting them spill out in full view of Sanemi’s greedy irises. Sanemi wasted no time in latching his mouth to one of her tits, where he lavished her with his tongue whilst massaging and kneading the other with his roughened hand, rolling her nipple in between his fingers and playfully biting down on her breasts every so often solely to hear her whine.

“‘Nemi…need…need more please,” Y/N moaned and he chuckled. “Hm? What do you need, pretty?” Y/N only whined in response and he bit her breast again, causing her to jolt. “Need you to tell me what you want, beautiful,” he continued.

“Need your mouth…” she admitted, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh? Where do you need it?” he asked her before sucking her tit once more.

“Nngh… my– my pussy,” Y/N whined pathetically, to which Sanemi released his mouth from her breast with a lewd pop.

“Good girl,” he praised and started working towards her needy cunt, licking down her torso and leaving kisses and bites on her inner thighs. He took his time working towards her wet heat and ghosted his mouth over her panties, his hot breath permeating the cloth as she impatiently writhed underneath him. He selfishly inhaled her scent before pulling the garment to the side, and leaving a soft kiss against her core, leaving her to whimper when he pulled away to remove her panties, only for him to then lick a fat stripe up her slit. Sanemi moaned deeply and proceeded to pull Y/N towards him by her hips, ensuring that her sweetness was as close as possible to his greedy tongue.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned before proceeding to stuff his face full of her pussy once more. The tip of his nose nudged her swollen clit as he gathered her wetness into his mouth by licking into her tight hole and fucking her with his tongue, moaning against her pussy in the process. Y/N began bucking her hips in response, only for him to pin them down with one arm as he used his other hand to start fingering her after moving his mouth to suck on her clit. She moaned with abandon as he began curling his fingers inside of her heat, sucking voraciously on her swollen nub.

“F-Fuck, ‘Nemi! I- I’m gonna cum!” Y/N attempted to writhe underneath him, despite being held back by Sanemi’s arm pinning her down. Her admission only turned Sanemi more eager, causing him to rut against the mattress as he began quickening his fingers inside her and sucking harder on her clit. Y/N’s eyes rolled back and her mouth went agape, screaming and shaking uncontrollably as she came into his awaiting mouth. He licked up every drop that she gave him, using his fingers to coax more of her release onto his tongue, not wanting to waste any of her precious gift.

Y/N sat up and clambered onto him as soon as she came down from her orgasm, and kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. “Wanna return the favor, ‘Nemi,” she whispered and he flushed red at the thought. “Yeah? Show me, pretty.” Standing up, he tilted her chin with one hand so that she was forced to look up at him from her knees. Using his other hand, he unbuckled his belt and removed it along with his hakama. His cock was thick, with pretty veins traveling all across it, making her nearly drool at the sight. Y/N brought one hand up and collected the precum from the tip of his cock with her thumb, before licking it off. Sanemi groaned, encouraging her to begin stroking his fat dick despite her hand being unable to fully reach around it. She took a curious first lick at his pretty, bulbous head, causing him to shudder, before wrapping her lips around it and sucking as she moved her hand along his thick length.

“Fuck, baby,” Sanemi groaned. Y/N moved her hand to fondle his balls and began taking on more of his length into her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth, a combination of saliva and precum coating his dick. “S-shit– you’re so good at that… fuck,” he groaned.

It took everything within Sanemi to not start fucking her throat at that moment – not wanting to hurt her as she pleasured him. He compromised by grabbing her hair and gently guiding her mouth along his cock, so that he could have some semblance of control over her movements and hence, his orgasm. Before he could cum, he removed her from his length and put his hand underneath her chin, tilting her head up towards his face – a wave of arousal shooting straight through his dick as he saw her swollen, spit-covered lips. “Open,” he commanded, and proceeded to spit into Y/N’s mouth before seeking her lips on his, demanding that she swallow. “Such a good girl for me, I’m gonna fill you up and make you feel perfect, baby,” he promised. 

Sanemi pushed her down onto the bed, spreading her legs apart with his. He stroked his cock a few times before lining it up with Y/N’s sopping pussy, selfishly rubbing it up and down her slick folds a few times. He looked into her eyes, seeing her smiling up at him before leaning down and giving a soft kiss to her lips. Y/N moaned softly — unable to wait any longer as she gently wrapped her fingers around his cock, pushing the tip into her tight cunt.

He slowly entered her heat, his shaft stretching open her spongy walls, and he let out a low moan. He lowered himself so that his chest was pressed up against her and his head was in the crook of her neck, and he took Y/N’s hands in his as he started to fuck slowly into her.

“Shit, you’re so perfect for me. You feel so good, baby,” Sanemi moaned and kissed her neck sweetly. Y/N whined as he slowly pulled out just to push his cock back in again – hitting the area that made her see stars. He chuckled, “your pussy just keeps sucking me back in, sweetheart – it’s like she doesn’t want me to leave.” Y/N responded by babbling incoherently, and he looked up at her only to see tears brimming her eyes from the pure pleasure he so graciously gave, and instinctively kissed them away. “Taking my cock so well, such a good girl,” he said before his mouth reached hers, tongue darting between her parted lips before caressing her tongue with his.

His thrusts started to become more desperate, nearly grinding into her – incidentally rubbing against her clit in the process. She moaned against his mouth, her kisses sloppy against his swollen lips. “So good, ‘Nemi…” she whimpered, allowing herself to get lost in the pleasure and heat that he was providing her. He choked on a moan as he continued to rut into her, the squelching sounds of her pussy driving him nearly insane, “gonna cum, pretty. Where– where do you want it?” he asked, surprised he even had the coherency to form words as his mind was half gone from pleasure.

“Inside,” she whined, and his eyes widened, the building tension in his gut rising. “Are you sure?” he asked, and she nodded, writhing underneath him. 

“Need it inside…please,” she begged him, and who was he to deny her? His thrusts became sloppier, and he let go of one of her hands to reach down and rub her clit. The pleasure was immense, and Y/N couldn’t think about anything but him as she clenched around his cock as her orgasm flooded through her body – which consequently brought Sanemi over the edge as well, as he all but exploded inside of her hot cunt, groaning deeply as his cum flooded into her womb in thick ropes – causing her to moan and babble incoherently. “Fuck! Fuck– Y/N, I fucking love you,” he confessed in his state of euphoria, and Y/N only fully grasped what he said once he had collapsed on top of her – having just enough energy to pull him up towards her lips to kiss him once more – his lips hot and wet and swollen as they pressed against hers. “I love you too, ‘Nemi. So much,” she confessed, and he looked at her, slightly embarrassed by his own impromptu confession, but beyond elated that she felt the same way. 

He slid off of her, his softening cock slipping out of her pussy and he reached his arms around her – wanting nothing more than to hold her close to him as they both lay there on his futon. She smiled lazily in his arms and he kissed her cheek softly. “Not gonna let you go, baby, I swear. I won’t let anything bad happen to you – not anymore,” he said as he gently brushed his rough fingers against her newly formed scar. 

“I know, ‘Nemi. I promise I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered softly, and he smiled, thinking that he’d finally found someone to share himself with – someone whom he could shatter into should he feel like breaking, someone who could piece him back together so he could remain strong for the sake of others.

“I know, I trust you.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Oh, how wrong he was.

He swore to himself that he was only parted from her for a second as his pace and heart quickened – traversing through the blood-slicked greenery. Sanemi was plagued by loss – his siblings, his mother, his first love – but the feeling that it would happen yet again never lessened the blow nor the curdling acidity that coursed through his gut. 

He frantically searched each corpse along the battlefield, hoping, praying, that he wouldn’t find her among them. Sanemi never considered himself religious – he would rather not believe in any god than believe that an almighty being could allow such devastation to course through his life – through others' lives. However, while mustering the waning strength of his muscles to keep him from collapsing, he called out to the universe – selfishly pleading with it to allow him to keep even a single shred of happiness within his life, swearing that he would give anything to ensure her safety, to secure her life as part of his own.

But the universe turned its back on him once again, as he saw a glimpse of her hair – but it wasn’t her hair. No, Sanemi knew that her hair shined in the morning sunlight, it was beautiful and soft as he would feel it between his fingers – it was never bloodied like it was now. 

As he rushed over to Y/N, he nearly puked upon setting his eyes on her. There was a deep gash that cut through her torso – one that couldn’t have been caused by anything but the claws of a demon. He could see her entrails spewing out of it, and as his eyes traveled up towards her face, it was obvious that he was far too late. Her eyes – the ones he loved to get lost in, were lifeless; her lips – the ones that were so soft and loving when he kissed her, were parted in what seemed to be remnants of fear from the last moments of her life.

Sanemi couldn’t take it – and, as though pushed by an invisible force, he was knocked down to his knees.

A wretched sob escaped him as he reached towards her, uncaring of the blood and gore that stained his clothing, and he held her close to him. He sobbed out her name, wishing this was some horrible trick – some fucked up nightmare that he was subjected to, but the longer Sanemi held Y/N in his arms, the more he realized that this was real and that he had broken his promise once again – the promise to protect those close to him.

He picked her up and carried her to a clearing away from the battlefield – where a sole willow tree stood, and resolved to bury her there. As he placed Y/N into the ground, Sanemi wished to carve her name amongst the many scars on his body, so that maybe the blood spilled in her honor would somehow tether his soul to hers, so that he may permanently have her in a way that life itself could not provide.

Hours passed, and he finally managed to stand up once more, his heart hardened once again, and it took everything within him to not look back as he walked away from her gravesite. And, despite not wishing to look upon her grave again, Sanemi committed himself to continue living and fighting in her memory as Y/N slowly returned to dust underneath the lone willow.

And so he did — until his very last breath.

[deuterium51614]

Boueibu Rewatch Part 7

The migraine I had earlier today subsided after a nap, so I was able to binge all three episodes!

Episode Seven

Chri-pa... Aw, man. So we back in--

"Christmas Eve is coming, so why don't we hold a Chri-pa?" and the reason for this is the card from the council. The party is held on Christmas Eve itself. Later, En says "Yeah, they sent it to the Defense Club yesterday." (They were in school the day before Christmas Eve?) So En's "I've been thinking about..." was super spur-of-the-moment lol

Also, En is hot in his Christmas/New Year's outfit.

The twins' Christmas song is iconic.

The whole thing about going to the hotel room was just... What?

With the little Wombat Yumoto made from Wombat's fur, all I can think of is the sweater from Spongebob "It's itchy, what's this thing made out of?" "Eyelashes!"

The Reindeer Monster had said "you only complain about your food getting to you cold" or something like that, and then Ryuu and Io comment that the noodles are soggy. They learned nothing lol

So what's the consensus on Hitori turning back? Was it the work of the Battle Lovers or Santa? (Also: Santa canonically exists in this universe. Someone needs to do something with that, like the Battle Lovers team up with him. Or a Nightmare Before Christmas-adjacent thing where S1 Caerula Adamas (no reveal AU) kidnaps him as part of their plan to conquer the Earth.)

Episode Eight

En brings up how they had plans to go skiiing, but ended up not going. Meanwhile, my mom has a fic that predates this where they did go skiing. And like this episode, it also involves getting snowed in. (Specifically En and Kinshirou.) Man, I need to reread her fics one of these days...

I remember there being a theory that the twins' dad was being controlled similarly to Tawarayama. Now that I'm looking again, isn't it weird that they gave him such a plain design? At least give him the same hair color as the twins!

Can't help but wonder about Kinshirou's opinion of Shin (and Munakata) staying at Binan High School as students.

Oh, and you see that I wrote "Shin" up there for the snowman guy's name? It's because his name is not "Jinzou Makoto" but "Nitou Shin" according to the Boueibu website. Also, his bio refers to him as an "OB" which I looked up and it's "old boy" or "alumnus," so is he even still a student at the high school? I feel like we assumed he is because the twins call him "senpai," and because it was established with Munakata that they seem to be lax about graduation? The subtitles say "Yes, we're students at Binan High School, just like you," but what is actually being said??

Because can you imagine. You graduated from high school years ago. You've spent five years trying and failing to get into art college. On New Year's Eve, you walk out of cram school and these two teenage twins that you've never seen before say they're from your alma mater and mock you for your failings. They turn you into a snowman. You fail at being a snowman. You're given a motivational speech. You get turned back into a human. You go to a shrine on New Year's Day. The twins appear again and transform in front of five other high schoolers, who have no reaction. Like what do you do with your life?

Episode Nine

The Defense Club literally did nothing for a month and a half after the twins revealed themselves. Like imagine if the cultural festival happened earlier in season one, but there was no Dark Aurite and instead for the rest of the season the Defense Club and council were Aware™️of each other being their enemies.

Also don't think I ever noticed, but En's reading an Oden magazine.

Why did Goura react the way he did to Yumoto saying the twins are "Galaxy Idols"? That shouldn't really have significance to him, unless I'm forgetting something, right? Maybe his enemies had that title, and the twins were inspired by it? (And Dadacha and Zundar got them the rights to it because it was cheap after CIDE failed?)

There are eight or nine chocolates in each box (flower might be covering a ninth). The intention was to animate him eating the whole box, but I think it looks like Yumoto only ate three or four? (Kinda looks like two might be stuck together.) (I wrote this before looking again and seeing the empty box showing he ate all of them, oops...)

Anyway, my counting is just a way to imply that there's a lot of chocolate left over in the other boxes. What if someone (En) just put it off to the side (in the unused council room) to throw out for later instead of just tossing it immediately. Or hey, he noticed Yumoto reacted to it like it was spicy and he wanted to try it? (The council comes back from their trip, and Ibushi pairs them with tea.)

Also, En picked one of the chocolates up. Imagine if he just ate it instead of asking what they should do with them.

I love Io's reactions this episode the best out of everyone's. Not sure if it's because I ship him and Yumoto, or if that led to it.

En's running the fastest we've ever seen him lol

Is there an animation error with Dadacha's tail? Looks like the shadow cut it off when it goes to the left.

"Gee VEPPer! How come staff lets you have two transformations?" (At least they used a different verse for the second one.)

Dadacha doesn't even have to touch someone to transform them into a monster. Though maybe the chairs are acting as a conduit?

Yumoto cuddling his Lovracelet is cute!!

That run when Yumoto's beckoning the monsters laksdjfa

Also, flashbacks to S1E3's "Come on! Give me hug!" when he said "Come on!"

"My wellspring of love never stops gushing!" "Is it okay to let this happen?" "It would be hard to take them all alone..." "A drop of love for each of you!" "I wonder where he learned that." "Go flying, Love Sprinkle!" I no longer feel bad about my fic's line "I'm going to shoot a load of love into your heart!"

"We cannot ignore them!" *continues to ignore them*

[zenkindoflove]

You already know half the story from when I rediscovered your beautiful work haha, but I'm almost certain my first Elucien fics on ao3 were yours. I remember stumbling upon I Think I Saw You In My Sleep and I loved it so much it haunted me... how attentive he was with Elain and how troubled not to take advantage of her UGH. And I'm pretty sure "I like to take my time" remains my favourite quote and something I look for in a future partner lmao. It altered my brain chemistry and I'm a different person entirely.

Then hit by an imense thirst for Elucien, I immediately jumped on Our Hearts Still Beat the Same and you managed to make me love Lucien more than I have in the books. You opened my eyes lmao. How you captured their awkwardness, vulnerability and 👏🏻tension👏🏻 sjxjsjsjss it made me feel so much Idek how to express it, so take this letter soup lol. I'm obsessed with the begining part in a story where the characters are reluctant or shy around eachother, still getting to know one another and I can't seem to find that exact feeling you gave me in other fanfics, which forces me to read yours again (not that I'm complaining), but I'm addicted and think the world needs more of that. Anyway, your writing style was exactly to my taste and what I was looking for!🩷

Omg you're so sweet 🤩🥰💖

When you left me those comments a few weeks ago and told me you had lost those fics and then found them again, it truly tickled me. Especially since we had been chatting on Tumblr for a bit 😂.

I really love those two fics. I wrote them after I took a little break from Burn Forever with Me to try my hand at some one-shots (even though they're still pretty long lol). I was listening to La Dispute's album "Somewhere at the Bottom of the River Between Vega and Altair" and the first and last songs on the album gave me ideas for both fics and they are named after lyrics in the songs that inspired them. So, I wrote them as sort of sister fics as they are sister songs. They are distinct stories of how Elucien might get together, but they're tied together by that feeling you describe - the newness of that early awkward, shy tension when a relationship just starts - both exploring the idea of how the bond and outside forces bring Elain and Lucien into a situation where they have to address the tension between them. I Think I Saw You in my Sleep is a little angstier/reluctant lovers trope and Our Hearts Still Beat the Same is cozier and more curious - which matches the vibes of the songs.

You're always so sweet and supportive! This ask really made my day 💕.

What fics brought you to my blog?

[mumms-the-word]

Dani's Masterlist

Meet Meridan "Dani" Zavrai

A blue Mephistopheles tiefling bard who prefers her fiddle and a few handy spells over combat. Dani was briefly part of a band of bards called the Merry Rovers, led by a human named Brann who she views as essentially her father figure. She loves to talk her way into and out of trouble, making her silver tongue just as much an asset as it is a hindrance, and she finds it hard to resist the allure of a few gold coins in almost any circumstance. She is deeply devoted to her friends, however, and will defend or support them at the drop of a hat. You can rely on her for a good song, an encouraging word, a hearty laugh, and a healthy dose of Vicious Mockery heaped upon your enemies. Dani fell in love with Gale and the two spend most of their time in witty banter.

(Want to know more? There's a whole backstory bash I did for Dani lol)

AO3 Link to all of Dani's fics in one place!

~*~*~*~*~*~

New Friend - 10yo Dani meets a lifelong best friend

Abducted - Dani is abducted by the nautiloid

Settling In - Dani reflects on her companions and her new place among them

Forearms - Dani offers to mend Gale's robe and...oh no he's hot

Signs Part 1 + Signs Part 2 - Dani teaches the companions a new game (with some light romance angst)

The Art of the Night - Gale invites Dani to spend a perfect evening in Waterdeep and Dani reads poetry from The Art of the Night

(Im)possible Odds - Gale contemplates fulfilling Mystra's command in Act 2

One Sleep Away - In the camp outside of Baldur's Gate, Dani and Gale share a few secrets while watching the city rest peacefully below.

Reunited Part 1 - Finally back in Baldur's Gate, Dani brings her companions to meet her mother

Reunited Part 2 - Several days later, Dani finally finds the Rovers at last

Siblings -Dani is not pleased at how Rolan is being treated at Sorcerous Sundries (half of this takes place both before "An Argument," and half of it after)

An Argument Part 1 and Part 2 - Dani and Gale do not see eye to eye about the Crown of Karsus

A Little Boat Voyage - After their argument, Dani agrees to listen to Gale's plan for the crown...begrudgingly...

A Matter of Moments - Dani is left waiting alone in the Stormshore Tabernacle as Gale meets Mystra in the Outer Planes. Despite herself, she wonders if—when—he will return.

New Normal - Dani thinks back on the last six months after their victory over the Netherbrain

~*~*~*~*~*~

Also featured in:

Four Shared Baths - Just your average bathing with an LI moment

Songs and Lyrics - A few songs/lyrics that inspired little bit scenes for Ardynn, Dani, and Invi

First Confessions - The first time my Tavs/Durges said "I love you" to their LIs

A Macabre Masquerade - A long, multi-chapter fic detailed an adventure Dani and Gale have in Baldur's Gate a year after the game ends!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Some lovely art of Dani that people have done! First is by @elspethdekarios and the second by @point-maitimo (and yes both take commissions and are extremely lovely!!)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Take me back to the Faerûnian Masterlist!

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

for the title ask game: We Were Gods (we were kids)

I want to hear more about that one, that's a riveting title! :eyes:

Ahhh yes, so originally this fic was inspired by the song Battle Cries by The Amazing Devil. It's a duet and like a divorce song? "This isn't a break-up, dearheart, it's a season finale!" I got the title from the lyrics where one part sings the line "We were gods" and then the other part echoes it with "We were kids" and that's just *chefs kiss* perfect fanfic title thank you TAD <333

The premise was childhood friends to estranged almost lovers to supers fighting on opposite sides to reluctant allies to (finally) lovers. And it was going to be a parkner fic (peter parker/harley keener). It was going to be an epic slow burn spanning nearly their whole lives.

Then I thought why not pry it out of its fanfic foundation and stand it on its own as an original concept? Harley is essentially my OC and Peter could be shaped into an OC too and the plot I had in mind had hardly any of the source material in it so why not? I'd just tweak some names, create my own super powers and aliens and then boom! Book!

Didn't work 🙃 I wrote a 110k draft and got to the end and was like wow this sucks. I half-assed the world building and tried to hang onto plot devices that just don't work outside the mcu (they don't even work within the mcu but I digress) SO now we're back to square one: making it a fanfic. Except it's not really square one because I have 110k that I need to snip and prune and repot back into a fic.

Actually it's more like 85k bc I have to re-write the beginning since I ended up keeping that part for my book, but the rest just needs reworked into something I like with the characters that we know and love plugged back in. It's going to be a massive revision project but not any more difficult than writing the thing lol

But anyway! It's going to feature super villain!Harley which I am very excited about. He is sooooo tortured in this one and Peter has the shittest luck in the whole world <333

I don't have a good excerpt to share so here is the high-level outline for part one!

Part 1: Childhood

Peter’s parents die in a plane crash. He moves to Rose Hill to live with Uncle Ben and Aunt May and meets Harley

Harley has his hands full with… his dad just walked out. He wasn’t abusive. It was just shocking and all at once. They thought something terrible happened, but after they report him missing Scotty at the corner store stops by and says he sold him scratchers. Then a few hours later the sheriff stops over with his hat in his hands and tells them his truck was found in the lot at the airport in Nashville. “Let him go,” Mama says. “Don’t want no man who don’t wanna be around. Let ‘im go.” And that was the end of that.

Peter arrives while Harley is getting used to being the only one home after school. Abbie’s off with Mrs. Farley in town while Mama works, so it’s just him most days ‘til Mama gets home around 5.

Starts hanging out with the Parkers. They keep him ‘round for dinner. Scares Mama the first time bc he didn’t ask ahead and wasn’t home when she got there. She demands to meet them.

They get on great and once they learn of her newly single situation they offer to watch Harley in the afternoons until she gets home from work. No need for payment or thank yous—it just so happens that Peter could really use a friend right now and they’ve been getting along so well.

So it begins. No creek. No pokemon. Peter and Aunt May clash like the dickens, but Uncle Ben is always cool and rational and settles things before they go too far. It’s nice.

Peter is obsessed with planes and tracking flights and researching news of lost flights, crashes, etc. Huge fear of flying, but not of heights. This fear stays with him, even when Harley turns into a flying superhero.

EJ is Harley’s bully. Harley is a talkative little nerd with a stutter and a penchant for mathematics. He attracts the mean types and Peter has a loud bark and never has had the good sense to back down from a fight. The shared battles cement them together.

After being blindsided by his dad leaving, Harley had to reevaluate everything he thought about family. Family is no longer who you get along with, despite differences. It’s no longer who you put on a smile for. It’s who you can disagree with and still hug and laugh with at the end of the day. It’s refreshing that he always knows where he stands with the Parkers. They have big feelings and they don’t bury them, but they’re solid. They’re dependable. They’re there.

Then the Parkers move to New York and leave Harley behind and his theory on what makes a family falls apart all over again.

[oneremainingbraincell]

My red dwarf oc! Bc I felt inspired by @raidermomma lol

Name: Tobias Foster (Lister calls her Tobie, Rimmer calls her that thing or little girl,although neither of them comment to her face that this is, in fact, a very unusual name for a girl)

Age: She looks like she's 19 (she doesn't always appear to be human, so she could be older, see origin)

Height: 5ft (she jokes she got to 10 years old and stopped growing)

Hair colour: black or brown (indistinguishable in the ship lighting)

Eye colour: emerald green, with a sparkle

Skin colour: tanned, but not too dark (as if you spent the year in the sun and tanned instead of burning)

Likes: curry night with Lister, playing irritating 21st pop songs on Rimmers hammond organ, getting the skutters to paint Rimmers bunk neon yellow, the seaside, Kryten's silly walk and facial expressions.

Dislikes: being alone, meeting new people, the smell of Cat's hairspray, thunderstorms, the silk things you get on clothes to hold them on the hanger, silence,

Origin: Found on a derelict, not in a stasis pod, so Lister and Rimmer think she's some kind of eldritch horror, as she has memories from the same period as Listers from. The ship had been drifting for 2 and a half million years after the crew went into stasis in an emergency situation. Her reported stasis exit was 300 years after her entry, which would make her more than 2 million years old. The crew decided not to address this.

Current relationships: Treats Lister like a mate, enjoys his company, and helps with his ongoing task or annoying Rimmer. She enjoys Cat's company but finds it difficult to understand his species. She likes Kryten, but shares Lister's opinion that he should learn human characteristics. Her attitude towards Rimmer is slightly more difficult to describe. She likes to irritate him, but also finds some of his characteristics endearing, which is deeply confusing for her, as she believes that she hates him. Her subconscious isn't so sure. She believes that she enjoys listers company so much because she likes him.

Edit: lol this is old. But it's helped me start to write my new fic!!!!!!

[shineyma]

tagged by @ragnarokhound! thanks for the tag!!

name: Amy! Nice, simple, rarely gets misspelled. A pretty good name I think.

pronouns: she/her

where do you call home: Texas!!! It gets three exclamation points because I just moved back in December after three and a half miserable years in Louisiana XD I'm very happy to be home

favorite animal: Tiger 🐅 You know how when you're a kid you just pick a favorite animal and it just sticks with you forever, no longer a point of interest as you age but still written into a deep part of your soul as Very Important?

...or is that just me?

cereal of choice: Honey Nut Cheerios on a regular day, but I do enjoy some Peanut Butter Crunch when I wanna treat myself. Also I go through occasional phases of hardcore craving Frosted Mini Wheats, so that happens.

visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner: Visual/kinesthetic. I have hearing problems and my brain defaults to "didn't hear that, must not've been important" which means I am the opposite of an auditory learner. This is a big problem in my life lol

first pet: When I was a kid, I won some fishes at a school fiesta. That was my first and last pet experience.

favorite scent: I think...sandalwood??? I'm not a scent expert but I got this wooden rosary at my confirmation that I think was sandalwood and it smelled so good? Catch me sniffing my rosary like a weirdo to this day.

do you believe in astrology: I know I'm a leo and that's it. All this sun sign/moon sign/ascending stuff that's suddenly popular is baffling to me. And the typical description~ of leos is all about being outgoing and confident and bold so like, ha, no. I absolutely don't believe in it.

how many playlists on spotify/apple music: why. who have you been talking to. what do you know. so many I cry

sharpies or highlighters: Neither, they bleed through the page and that drives me crazy

songs that make you cry: "No Good Deed" from Wicked. "Everything I Know" from In the Heights. "Beauty from Pain" by Superchick. Those are just the first three to come to mind, I tear up pretty easily lol

songs that make you happy: "Be Okay" by Oh Honey. "Alive" by Krewella. "Mambo No. 5" by Lou Bega. Also just the first three to come to mind, I'm easily influenced by music XD

do you write/draw/create: Not recently sadly. I used to! I'm still very proud of my 52 weeks of fic, in which I successfully posted a fic every week for the entirety of 2020, despite both a global pandemic and my best friend dying.

But part of my 52 weeks of fic included writing for Harry Potter and I got some significant hate on those fics. It kind of just...totally killed my muse. I tried to push past it but here I am with my last fic published in September 2021, going on almost two years with no writing at all. :(

I did get a little inspired lately, but it fizzled out. JD's birthday is coming up in September (that last fic I wrote was her 2021 birthday gift XD) so maybe I'll try again then?

tagging but no pressure: the usual crowd! @safelycapricious, @ilosttrackofthings, @sapphireglyphs, @andyouweremine, @thestarfishdancer

[rmd-writes]

Hi Rae! Happy nice ask week!

I've heard the story of how you got into writing Tarlos through a prompt game, but what made you start writing for RWRB?

Hi Sara!

The short story is that I was lovingly bullied into writing RWRB fic lol

The slightly longer story is that I'd been writing SC fic for a few months, but had also been consuming RWRB fic like I'd emerged from a month in a desert and it was water. A friend asked if I was going to try and write RWRB fic too and I (now somewhat infamously in that circle of friends) said something like, "oh, I don't think I know Alex and Henry well enough to even try writing them." It was not long after I'd also said, "I don't think I could ever write smut. Besides, half the fun in having railmedaddy as a user name is that she only writes fluffy little fics." 😂😂😂

Anyway, I did write my first smutty SC fic (hitting post on that was fucking terrifying) and I'd been chatting with cmere and she gently kept hinting that I should not only try writing firstprince fic but that having read my SC fic, I should definitely try writing smutty firstprince fic. Once she said it, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Inspired by the concept of my SC fic (which involved a piano), these lines popped into my head:

Thinking back, the first time Alex heard him play it, the song was just an interlude on repeat, sounding a little different to the classical music Henry usually played for him while he studied but Alex was too engrossed in his books to really take notice. He should have taken notice.

Those five lines wouldn't leave me alone, eventually became this fic and the rest, as they say, is history.

What's your RWRB origin story?

[cc-kote]

I've been working on this fic for the past few months and my friends convinced me to start posting it :P I have about half? Of it actually written and the rest is all planned out in a rough draft, but I'm gonna be releasing chapters weekly until I catch up to myself. I'm happy to put it out there for people who want to see it, but pls be nice to me and don't leave mean or critical comments. This is purely for fun and comfort, and I just wanted to make something for the sake of doing it, not perfecting it. If this isn't your thing, I'm sure something else out there is!

I'm still a relatively new fan so there may be some inaccuracies surrounding lore/characterization/in-universe details so forgive me, I'm still learning. I have more WIPs on the go so hopefully they'll be a little better in that sense, but again this is just a silly fun time. Yes the first section is ripped right from the movie, I felt like doing that laid down the foundation for what I wanted to change and made it easier to transition from canon to fanon. I wanted to see what I had to twist and bend to put them in a scenario where they both survive the events of TROS and have to confront and unpack the things they did/why they did them/how they cope with the aftermath. It's not exactly a redemption arc, moreso focused on them facing the reality of their Situations and what lead them there, a look at the parallels and contrasts in their stories, and all the little things about their dynamic that make my brain rattle. It's also a bit of a personal, self indulgent fix it fic for me. I took what I wanted to see that the sequels didn't implement/expand on and I did it meself, ie. Finn is force sensitive, Finnpoe is canon, Ben and Rey's dynamic isn't romance driven and leans more towards estranged siblings. That last one I'm excited about bc it's not something I see often but it's really fun to explore because I love both of them and their interactions but personally in my brain it jives better platonically. I might be biased tho because I can't shake the kylux brainrot lol.

The title/chapter names are all based on songs that I felt fit the theme best because my autistic ass cannot stop making Connections™️. The title is a lyric from This Is How I Disappear by MCR, and ch1 is named after the song The Bitter End by Placebo.

AnYway, what I'm trying to say is that I had a lot of fun putting these guys in Situations and deciphering how they might react, and rewatching/researching/connecting dots with other media for inspiration. I hope it can bring someone as much joy reading it as I got from making it, and if it doesn't, that's ok too! I'm just happy I finally sat down and made something :D

[characteroulette]

DIRECTOR'S CUT! give me the rundown on Lemon Boy!

Oh god uhh. That is three whole chapters lol it's gonna be a bit long oof

Okay so like. The concept started from this Cavetown Album (called Lemon Boy, fittingly) and me singing Lemon Boy to myself one day and going, "huh. Apollo and Snufkin both fit this song. I should do something with that." (I pretty easily spiraled into shipping the two help)

I wanna be ten feet tall!! I wanna grow big red horns!! I wanna eat fire and snow!! And scare everyone!!

Uhh yeah go listen to Ten Feet Tall it's a good song. Very Apollo vibes.

(I love to write to music, if you couldn't tell. Sprinkling in the motifs or imagery of them is like my fave thing to do it's so much fun.)

It is very important to me that you understand that Apollo's love language is to shove. This is my headcanon and I will go to the grave pushing this agenda. XD

The concept of Apollo tracking down one of his old foster caretakers was actually something I came up with while jamming out a different story with Tega. It was a nice little heartbreaking thing to include in Apollo's backstory and so I put it here. Shit's fucked, my boy, I'm sorry.

(Maple and Ginger were purely named for food. Also lesbian couple because idk I will also die on this hill that Apollo is gay and had a lot of gay in his life.)

I am pushing an Agenda and y'all will have to live with it. XD

But for real, I just like the concept of a young Snufkin, not really knowing any other way to console his friend, kissing him first and explaining it after. Snufkin and Apollo can understand each other in a way not a lot of the other kids around them could, so of course they'd also have a bit of a different relationship than those others.

This was also a good setup for the final chapter but it's really the entire reason I wrote this fic, I wanted this scene where Snufkin kisses Apollo and then Apollo pays it forward later in his life.

so uh I wrote the Clay chapter *after* finishing the first and last chapters!! I was originally just not gonna include a Clay segment (he was giving me too much trouble), but then I had a burst of inspiration and slammed it out so hey Clay gets to be in this lol.

Also furthering my Apollo will bite agenda. I love the idea of Apollo not actually getting bullied because he fought back, but getting ignored and avoided actually because, again, he fought back. I think it fits his character pretty well to have that in his background, considering how desperate he is for validation.

Clay is also weird to me. Like, he's such a blank slate for characterisation that I end up not knowing what to do with him half the time and that kinda makes him boring to me. He's only fun because *I* made him fun, which can be nice but like. The Ace Attorney roster is filled with too many good characters for him to stand out at all. Dual Destinies made Clay an important fixture in Apollo's backstory, though, so fuck me I guess.

Finally, Klavier chapter!! I got to start off with Apollo just buying the concert tickets Klavier sent, which as you know is my favourite little detail. Klavier sending these tickets is such an unhinged move but Apollo then buying them without a second thought is just as unhinged, these two are dumbasses and perfect for one another. XD

IT'S ME I'M STILL MAD ABOUT THIS. Phoenix goddamn Wright you cannot make Apollo present two (two!!) pieces of forged evidence and then never apologise for it!!! And then Spirit of Justice rolls around with Dhurke's whole deal and!!! Makes everything worse!!!

I have a whole ten or so rants about how AJ's ending is made worse actually by SoJ's inclusion (because how could Apollo be "too new" to law when he grew up with a literal disgraced defence attorney?? How could he have nothing to say on the poisoned system when he's known Dhurke and Khura'in's whole deal for all his life??? I'm upsetti I am so upsetti about this) but I'll save that for another time >T

I just really like this bit. Absolutely added this scene it does not exist in canon, but. I like Apollo's last line. Maybe one day you won't be such a coward, Klavier. Maybe one day you'll stop running from the truth.

And agh. The whole conversation scene in the lobby is just. Catharsis but not. I ended up playing the comfortable-but-also-not mood the two got stuck in, Apollo reaching out and Klavier dodging his advances (like the coward he is lol) until Klavier finally does accept that offer. I just like their dynamic, two men touched by ruin and reacting to it in vastly different ways. Klavier runs until he sees someone else in need and Apollo reaches out against all of his better instincts. They're my faves <3

*screaming from the rooftops* IT'S ABOUT TRUST!! IT'S ABOUT TRUSTING SOMEONE WHOM YOU SHOULD ABSOLUTELY UNDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES NEVER THINK ABOUT TRUSTING!!! BUT YOU TRUST THEM ANYWAY!! AND THEY TRUST YOU IN RETURN!!! agh

I like the whole scene of them talking outside the car (and fun fact, I have an actual location in mind for them to be at; it's near the Conejo Boulders, which isn't LA whoops but is a view ingrained into my mind), but particularly this bit (of course) --

YEAH KISS!! it's a parallel (or rhyme??) to the one Snufkin gave him in the first chapter!! It's Apollo internalizing that lesson and paying it forward!! Yeah.

The end bit is funny specifically to me. Like yeah Apollo just spent a whole day making out and talking with Klavier and only when Klavier is like, taking care of him (making breakfast) does Apollo go "oh. Shit. I might desire this man romantically." Like lol amazing my fave. XD

ANYWAY YEAH LEMON BOY. I LIKE IT. At some point I'll finish the two sequel stories I've got in the works....

[prongsandhisfoot]

i was reminded today that i once made a playlist of songs related to prongsfoot in some way and i don’t think i’ve ever actually?? listened to it, but i’m going to listen to it for the first time! and try to remember my reasoning...

1. keep away - lou reed

i genuinely don’t remember this song. may 6, 2022...yeah, no recollection. my best guess is i was reading pioneers for the second or third time and made some parallels with the lyrics. reading the lyrics now, i kind of see it? in a more ironic/lying way...i’ll probably delete it, though it’s a very fun song tbh, so i’m glad i re-listened to it! 

2. thick as thieves - the jam

this one is pretty obvious. i could just copy and paste the whole song lol, but that’s a little too much, so i’ll just paste the first few verses! second half is just as prongsfoot-y though. for similarly clear reasons.

Times were so tough, but not as tough as they are now We were so close and nothing came between us, and the world No personal situations Thick as thieves us, we'd stick together for all time And we meant it but it turns out just for a while We stole, the friendship that bound us together

We stole from the schools and their libraries We stole from the drugs that sent us to sleep We stole from the drink that made us sick We stole anything that we couldn't keep And it was enough, we didn't have to spoil anything And always be as thick as thieves

Like a perfect stranger, you came into my life Then like the perfect lone ranger, you rode away, rode away Rode away, rode away

3. pale blue eyes - vu

i genuinely annotated a copy of this song in the book i have of lou reed’s lyrics from the perspective of prongsfoot. something was wrong with me but also, i was right. this one is a bit (lot) more metaphorical than #2, hence my annotations lol, so i’ll just paste the most obvious bit:

It was good what we did yesterday And I’d do it once again The fact that you are married Only proves you’re my best friend But it's truly, truly a sin

as for the eponymous “linger on, your pale blue eyes,” i wrote in the book that it represents sirius losing his memories of james while in azkaban--aka him lingering on james while alone for a decade lol, and his memories of james changing. according to what i wrote, “pale” represents how he’s losing his memories (i.e. they’re losing color; paling) and “blue eyes” represents the same exact thing--or more specifically, how he’s remembering incorrectly, since james’s eyes are hazel (and sirius’s are grey). this is so funny and terrible

edit: i almost forgot the other pretty clear verse??

Thought of you as my mountaintop Thought of you as my peak Thought of you as everything I've had, but couldn't keep I've had, but couldn't keep

4. i’m sticking with you - vu

another fairly very obvious one (this song is literally james and sirius in the levicorpus flashback scene lmao). the clearest parts:

Anything that you might do I'm gonna do too

and then

But with you by my side I can do anything When we swing We hang past right and wrong

I'll do anything for you Anything you want me to

5. red right ankle - the decembrists

this one is literally since a prongsfoot fic i have bookmarked is named after this song and inspired by it lmaoo

here’s the first two verses:

This is the story of your red right ankle And how it came to meet your leg And how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled And how the skin was softly shed

And how it whispered, "Oh, adhere to me For we are bound by symmetry And whatever differences our lives have been We together make a limb" This is the story of your red right ankle

“oh, adhere to me // for we are bound by symmetry / and whatever differences out lives have been // we together make a limb” tbh that’s all i care to include, the rest is just for context lol.

adhere to me <-> i’m sticking with you lmaooo

6. black and gold - sam sparro

this is the most cringy of them all. i promise it’s not just because of the title that this is here. it’s still cringy either way but still. tbh someone needs to give this to the jegulus fandom they’d eat it up. the “black and gold” at the very least

'Cause if you're not really here Then the stars don't even matter Now I'm filled to the top with fear That it's all just a bunch of matter

Cause if you're not really here I don't want to be either I wanna be next to you Black and gold, black and gold, black and gold

also this part, which this fic comes from. (it’s not exactly a favorite fic of mine but it is a readable prongsfoot fic, which is rare enough for me to call a fic with a “misunderstandings” plot readable)

I look up into the night sky And see a thousand eyes staring back And all around these golden beacons I see nothing but black

7. barracuda - john cale

tbh i could explain every line & verse as prongsfoot-y but some are less obvious and some are more obvious so i’ll just do what i’ve been doing and paste the most obvious lol

Barracuda, barracuda Won't you lay down your life to me? Won't you love me barracuda? If you always need to bring out the worst in me

and then, of course

The ocean will have us all The ocean will have us all

and finally (think of this in reference to poa lol)

Dead forest with the moon arising Smiling at you out of reach

8. supplier! - crisaunt

this is...not exactly my type of song?? to be honest i don’t even know the prongsfoot reference but i do remember adding it...i just don’t have a clue why

9. what’s good (the thesis) - lou reed

this is what made me remember this playlist!

Life's like a mayonnaise soda And life's like space without room And life's like bacon and ice cream That's what life's like without you

Life's like forever becoming But life's forever dealing in hurt Now life's like death without living That's what life's like without you

and then

What's good is life without living What good's this lion that barks You loved a life others throw away nightly It's not fair, not fair at all

pretty simple!

the verdict: i’m taking off keep away, black and gold, and supplier. now it’s a 6-song, 22 minute playlist, lol. i doubt anyone’s read this far but if you have--suggestions?