#i hope you reunite in the afterlife

[constantine-2005]

i'm like 99% sure these two were dating before the killing game and that hurts my feelings

[antiquecolor]

So, I have been a little bit of a mess about Atsushi's death. The news was posted as I was going to bed and then I couldn't sleep because I kept crying.

BUCK-TICK's music came into my life 21 years ago, and Atsushi has been one of the greatest and most consistent sources of comfort to me. Thinking about it, his voice and songs have been here in almost every major event so far in my life. He really changed my life, as I am sure he changed many other people's, simply by existing and sharing himself with the world. I cried when I finally saw BUCK-TICK in person during a trip to Japan in 2018, by myself in a seat so far back that they almost looked like ants on the stage. I was a little glad to be so hidden because nobody would see it.

Atsushi always sang about love and death, and I knew somewhere in my heart this wouldn't be forever. His lyrics, his voice... His charisma and somehow feminine beauty. Although we have 36 years worth of music, I also mourn for what we could have had still, because he showed no signs of stopping.

Thank you for everything, Atsushi. It was a pleasure being alive at the same time as you. I'll cherish these memories forever.

Goodbye.

[distracted-obsessions]

Odysseus jumps. He is falling off the cliff. He thinks he will be reunited with Penelope in the afterlife at least and that is good enough.

Time stops. The slow ticking of a clock. Gentle, soothing piano.

"Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you?"

"Have you lost all of your hope? This is not you."

"I see you changing from all that you've been through."

"have you forgotten your purpose? Let me remind you."

Violas start playing.

[aliidarling]

i searched male manipulator music to find a song for this post LMFAOO anyways guys i dyed my hair burgundy:3 i’m in my red hair era

i need to purge my urges, shame shame shame ♡

RICK GRIMES x fem!reader

part 2

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: you get taken by the CRM by total coincidence and reunite with your lover who you haven’t seen in years, only to find out he’s only a fragment of the man he used to be

tags: p in v, praise, gaslighting, toxic!rick, manipulation, i’m bad at tagging

nsfw content below !!

You were lying barely alive in a field, bleeding out from your stomach. Your eyelids were heavy as you struggled to stay conscious, not wanting to die. You had so much to live for.

Everything was a blur, the blood staining your clothes. His name echoed in your head. It had been years since you saw the man you fell in love with. Ever since that day the bridge exploded, the day you lost him.

It had been almost eight years since then.

You supposed a normal person would have moved on by now, but his face and voice still haunted you, keeping you up during late hours and not allowing you to rest.

It would only be fitting that he was the last person on your mind during your last moments. You only could hope you were one of his before the bridge took his life.

Everything started to fade slowly, your ears ringing. Your eyesight was spotty. All you wished for was to reunite with him in the afterlife.

As you finally went still, the loud noise of a helicopter nearing went unheard by you.

You had no idea what was going on. You were being carried by two large soldiers wearing all black, holding you up by your arms as your body dragged on the floor. When you awoke, you were in an infirmary, all bandaged up and feeling better.

It was like they worked magic on you. The bandages around your abdomen were the only evidence of the stab wound that was once there.

“Where the hell am I?!” You yelled, your voice almost scratchy. They ignored you and continued dragging you towards a door in the hallway.

“Listen to me you fat fucks!” A screech left you as they shoved you inside the room, slamming the door behind you. You stumbled into the room, quickly regaining your balance as you clutched your side, the aggressive treatment opening your stitches slightly.

“Jesus, what the f… Your words were trailed as you looked up and realized four people were staring at you, all of them seated in a row with one empty seat in front of them. You blinked slowly.

One of them calmly smiled at you and motioned for you to sit. You gritted your teeth, looking around the room. Soldiers were standing by the walls, guns in their hands.

You sighed and hesitantly sat down, giving them a blank look.

It had been a week since then. They explained the overall situation you were in, and how they had found you half-dead in a field and saved you. You felt a little grateful, obviously, but you couldn’t shake off the weird feeling this place gave you.

The way they didn’t let you leave no matter what you said was what freaked you out the most.

“What do you mean I can’t leave?!” You snapped, raising your voice at the tall man before you. He had introduced himself as Okafor and was one of your superiors. For the last week, you had been dragged outside by the gate, handed a sharp spear, and instructed to kill walkers without any choice in the matter.

He rolls his eyes at you and frowns, staring down at you.

“Why would you want to leave? We’re giving you a place to stay with a small fee for some labor.” He scoffs, ushering you off back towards the fence.

“You’re being brainwashed.” You grumble, reluctantly setting your spear back up and pulling your mask down.

Another few hours of just stabbing walkers in the head passes, tiring you. You’re leaning against the gate, blood all over your clothes and the jacket they supplied you with.

“Good job, rookie,” Okafor comments playfully, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You grumble and push him off.

“This place sucks ass. I just wanna go home.”

Okafor hums and shrugs at you.

“Sorry to break the news, but there’s no chance. Only one man in history has attempted to leave, and even he didn’t make it.”

This sparks your interest for a moment before you sigh and turn away.

“Am I done for the day?”

Okafor grins and immediately shakes his head, making you groan and cross your arms. You had been in the heat for half the day now, you were sweating and all you wanted to do was go home and wash all this blood off you.

“We have a commander coming to do a check-in. He’ll be here in around ten minutes, so stay put.” The words leave him smoothly, not giving you even a second to complain before he turns away and starts talking to another one of his men.

With a groan, you picked up your spear and started stabbing the walkers again. You felt like that’s all you’ve been doing recently, other than planning on how to escape this place.

A few long minutes later, you hear a name being yelled that makes your heart stop.

“Commander Grimes!” Okafor yells happily as a tall man in a tactical suit walks up to him, his back to you. Your blood ran cold as you prayed that it was some coincidence.

Even still, if it was a coincidence it would still make you feel sick. The universe always had its way of making fun of you, and now it was making you hear his name everywhere.

You stared at the man’s back, silently praying that when he turned around it would be him. Or wouldn’t. You were confused with yourself— you didn’t know if you wanted to see him alive if it meant he was working for this corrupted military.

But your heart ached, even if the cons weighed you down. You found yourself staring, walkers long forgotten.

Okafor notices you staring and frowns, turning his attention from the commander to you with a wave of his hand.

“C’mere, rookie. You gotta meet Commander Grimes.”

Oh fuck.

Your legs felt wobbly like they could buckle from underneath you at any second. With your legs working on auto drive and your mind racing at a thousand thoughts per second, you found yourself walking towards the two men.

Once you reached them, the tall man slowly turned to look at you. It felt like should have been in slow motion, but in reality, it was all going way too fast.

The commander turned to look down at you, his blue eyes and curls making you want to vomit. It was him. Of course, it was him.

His eyes were emotionless, his face completely blank. He stared at you like you were any other person. Like you weren’t the woman he shared a bed with for years. The woman who helped him raise Carl.

“Sweetheart, your mask,” Okafor comments mockfully, making you grimace. That’s probably why he’s staring at you like you were a piece of dust.

“S-Sorry, sir.” Your voice cracked slightly as you quickly pulled your mask off, your hair getting tangled slightly. You quickly brush it out of your eyes, blinking rapidly. Gulping down the nausea, you looked back up to meet Rick’s eyes.

He was frozen, his lips parted and eyes wide, not making a single noise. His back was turned to Okafor, so only you could see the expression he had. The expression of shock, realization, and recognition.

After a long moment of silence between the three of you, you held your hand up to your temple and saluted him, your fingers trembling.

“Commander Grimes.” Your voice shook as you pressed your lips together.

He stared at you for another long few seconds before nodding, so subtle you barely noticed. Everything in his body was on fire, alarms blaring and his heart pounding.

There you were. Standing in front of him. Saluting to him.

“Welcome to the CRM, consignee..” He trailed on.

You held back a laugh before muttering your name, glancing at him, the ground, and then back to Okafor.

“Am I free to go?” You said rather harshly, your fists clenching.

Okafor gave you a once-over, judging your dirty clothes stained by walker blood and messy hair from the mask. He hums before waving you off.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll see you here at 8am tomorrow morning.” He mutters before going back into casual conversation with Rick.

As you walked away, you could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole into your back.

Just later that night, you were in your given apartment. It didn’t feel like home, like Alexandria. Your mind stayed on Judith and RJ, freaking out about whether they were alright or not.

Judith had stopped answering you a few days before you got captured. You knew a part of you was delusional for going out on a whole entire journey to find your lover when this whole time he was living luxury at the CRM. He was a commander, fuck.

What were you doing? Staying here? You needed to escape now, find Rick, and ask him what he was doing here. You wouldn’t leave without him, that was for sure.

You crawled up on your bed, hunching closer to the window. It led to a fire escape but was sealed tightly shut. For a place that says they never had anyone want to leave, they’re pretty cautious with these types of things.

Glancing at the mini kitchen, you got an idea. You grabbed one of the knives and got back on the bed and kneeled down next to the window and started to slide the knife between the slits, hoping to hear a crack or any type of noise that would alert you you’re going in the right path.

Not even mid-way through your little escape attempt, your door suddenly slammed open. You shrieked and dropped the knife, sitting up and turning towards your door.

Rick stood there, staring at you with a panicked expression. He shut the door, locked in, before turning back to you. He was wearing dark clothing still, but not tactical. Instead, he wore a button-up paired with jeans, with a leather jacket on top.

He rushed towards you and grabbed you, cupping your face with shaky hands and trembling lips. You immediately leaned back into him with the same expression, happy to finally be with him, and happy he still cared for you.

“You- you— why—“ He furrowed his brows as he patted you down in a panic, not believing the fact you sat before him. His hands were shaky as he cupped your face again and leaned down towards you, scanning every detail on your face.

“Rick, Rick— is it really you?” You gasped softly, sitting up further and pulling him in by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He places one hand on the back of your neck while his other stays on your back, pushing you into him.

“It’s me, baby, swear. S’me.” He soothingly brushes his fingers through your hair before gently placing his other hand on your chin. His thumb picks at your bottom lip.

“What are ya’ doing here, sweetie? How’d ya’ find me?” His voice was soft and gentle, lowered. His thumb gently pulls your lip down before leaning his down. He breaths onto your lips.

“I-I— I’ve been, I’ve been looking. I swear. Almost died and CRM took me.” You muttered shakily. Rick frowns and massages the back of your head gently.

“You almost died?” He mumbled and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. You whined softly, wanting nothing more then his lips on yours. Your hands clawed at his jacket. He giggles and pushes you down onto your bed, crawling over you and pressing your body down with his.

“You’re okay, now, right? Good girl, keep being good for me.” You nod in response as he kisses your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands gently tug at his hair.

“Missed you.” You whimper into his ear, a soft moan leaving you as he nuzzles his beard into your sensitive flesh. His hips grind down on yours, the two of you desperate for each other.

“God, can’t even describe how much I missed ya’, gonna fuck you so good.” He almost whines. His hands come down by your sides and grab at you. He presses his lips against you hard.

A muffled moan leaves you as he sits up over you slightly. He pushes one of his knees between your legs and puts pressure against your core, his hand going to your shirt.

“I’m not gonna let you leave this time, kay’?” His eyes darkened as he said this, making you shiver. With a hesitant nod, Rick starts to pull your shirt off. Once you were topless underneath him, his lips pressed gentle kisses against every inch of your torso.

His breath brushed against your breasts. Your bra was the only thing separating him from your breasts. Without another second to spare, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra.

This was all going so fast.

“Wait— Rick,” You whine softly, trying to sit up. He shushes you, cupping your breasts and pushing you back down, colluding his lips with your neck.

“Haven’t seen you in eight years, sweetheart. Nothing you do can get me off you.” He chuckles darkly, nuzzling his scratchy beard against your sensitive throat before pulling away and lowering his predatory gaze to your breasts.

A small moan left your lips as his hands started to massage your breasts, his warm palms gliding over your chest. Your nipples hardened, making him chuckle. He leans down, tweaking one of them with his finger and gently taking the other in his mouth.

Your eyes flutter as you find yourself being pleasured by the man you’ve been dreaming of for years— your body being treated like a vase. He was so gentle and soft with you, kissing every inch he could reach. His hands were soothing as they caressed you.

It still felt odd though. Something about his dark gaze and his possessive words had you shivering under him, looking up at his eyes. The new scars on his body had you wondering what he went through.

He was holding you close to his chest, hugging you tightly and humming soft little praises into your ear. His cock was buried deep inside you, your walls fitting him like a vise. He moaned into your ear, holding you so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with bruises.

His hips rocked smoothly, pushing himself deeper and deeper, wanting all you could offer. He wanted every inch of you and never wanted to let go.

“Good girl, so good for me, pussy so tight around me,“ He groans into your ear. His voice was raspy as his hands tightened around you, one on the back of your neck and gripping it. He held your face towards him so he could lean down to give you kisses whenever he wanted.

His other hand went down to work at your clit, humming approvingly as you clenched down at the pressure and let out an adorable little mewl under him.

“Wanna cum? Hmm?” He coos, gently rubbing your sensitive spot, leaning closer, and nuzzling into your neck. His thrusts get harder.

“P-Please, Rick, love you so much—“ You choke out, grabbing at him to steady yourself as he batters your insides. Your toes curled as your eyes rolled back, broken whines leaving your throat.

“Oh, oh, oh God— p-please! I’ve been so good..” You cried out into his ear as your words started to slur together. Your lips were quivering as he kept slamming his cock into your tight hole over and over again, sending you right over the edge.

“Yeah, you gonna cum? Mmm, good girl, just like that,” He whispers softly as he pounds into you more as you spasm around him. He feels your little cunt go tight around him and let out your juices. He grunts at the feeling, burying himself as deep as he could as he closes his eyes and leans his head back, relishing in the feeling of cumming inside you for the first time in eight heat.

“Yeah, sweet little baby. So good for me.” He groans as he fucks you gently through your orgasm, listening to your shaky moans and cries as your release keeps getting dragged on and on, more cum leaking out from your hole.

With a shaky sigh, he makes sure he has completely milked you out before slowly pulling out, small squelching sounds filling the silence. Your breaths were shaky, and so were his, both of you exhausted after the passionate love-making session.

“Rick..” You mumble tiredly, looking over at him. You lay limp on the bed, your pussy a mess with both your cums dripping out.

He smiles and looks over, now standing up and reaching for his boxers. He leans over you and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, his thumb squishing your cheeks together.

“I’ll clean you up, kay? Gimme a sec, hun.” He says sweetly before pulling away once again and walking off to your bathroom.

A few minutes later the two of you laid in your shitty bed together, the mess between your thighs cleaned up. You were currently receiving a back massage from him, oddly enough. You laid on your belly as his large hands worked on your back muscles.

He stared down at you, admiring every little change in your body. He wished he was there for you all those years he wasn’t.

“What happened?” You asked softly, peering at him from over your shoulder. You felt him press his thumb down on a knot in your shoulder, making you whine softly.

“…You want me to start from the start?” He chuckles dryly. You give a hesitant nod.

“…Anne found me.. half dead on the riverbank. She was working with the CRM and turned me in, saved my life.” He spoke with a small hint of gratitude in his words, masked by his deadpan tone.

You continued to lay there silently, enjoying the back massage but still wanting him to explain everything. Was that all he was gonna say?

“..And? Did they— did they force you to stay? Did they hurt you?” You stuttered, wanting some type of explanation why he never came back. You wouldn’t be able to handle it if you found out he had willingly stayed here for eight years.

He was silent for a moment, his palm pressing down on your shoulder blades and rubbing in small circles. His eyes gaze down at you, wondering what to say to make himself not sound like the bad guy.

“No.” He mutters after a moment.

You felt like your entire world had shattered again, like he was being ripped from your arms like that day on the bridge.

“Why didn’t you try to come back?” Your voice cracked, making him realize he had screwed up. He hesitates on what to do before quickly pulling you into his arms, rubbing your back gently, and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I did, sweetheart, promise. Tried a few times, but they stopped me. Made me realize what this place was. It’s life-changing, baby, you gotta give it a chance. I want you to stay here with me, kay? For me? Please, you gotta do it. If you loved me you’d stay, wouldn’t you?” He whispers soothingly, his words like daggers as he holds you tighter with every passing second.

“W-What? Rick? No— I can’t—“ You attempted to pull away, making him growl and push you down on the bed, crawling over you and planting his arms on each side of you.

“No, you gotta listen to me.” He says firmly, his eyes dark. Who was this man? Why was he treating you like this? The Rick you knew would never speak to you like this.

“Rick—"

He shushes you.

“You’re staying here with me, got it? It’s safe here. You’ll be safe. Don’t you wanna stay with me? Don’t you want tonight to happen over and over again?” He whispers, his dark tone turning into a sickeningly sweet one, his hand coming to cup your cheek and gently caress your skin.

“I can't, Rick. What about A-Alexandria? Judith? Maggie and Daryl— they’re all— you need to come home! This place isn’t good, good for you, good for us.” You attempt to plead.

Your words fall on deaf ears as he shushes you again, the dark look in his eyes coming back. He stares down at you in an almost offended manner.

“Are you trying to manipulate me?” He scoffs, sitting up and giving you a disgusted look. You freeze, quickly sitting up and attempting to reach for him. He clicks his tongue and pushes you away.

“I cant believe you sweetheart, just got me back, and is already trying to fall for your words. I thought you loved me?” He whispers slowly, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

Your heart stops as his words settle in your throat, your eyes wide. Panic overtakes you as you quickly pull him back in and hug him tightly, trembling now.

“N-No, no, I swear— I wasn’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Rick, please don’t leave me.” Your words are small and fearful, fearful of him leaving you after you just found him.

His eyes soften as he keeps the sick grin from overtaking his face, his hands going to gently cradle you in his chest. He hums sweetly, rubbing your head.

“It’s okay, I know you’re just a lil’ confused. I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, okay? I’ll keep you safe and sound, just gotta stay here with me, can you do that? For me?”

“Y-Yea— yes, yes, anything for you.” You stammer, curling into his arms with watery eyes and shaky limbs. You didn’t want him to leave you, not again.

“Good girl. Knew you’d snap back to reality.” He chuckles dryly. His large hands hold you close to him, humming gently into your ear and rocking your small body.

The two of you lay there for a long time until you were asleep and gently snoring, and he was staring down at your vulnerable form, thinking.

You weren’t gonna go anywhere, and he’d make sure of that. He had searched for you for too long to let you slip away now, he’d rather die than watch you leave. He just needs to find a way to get Judith here, and you’ll all be the happy family you once were.

He’d make sure you had nowhere to go, even if it meant hurting you and twisting your sight on the world.

lmk if u want a part 2? idk what i could make happen but there's def potential

[hunterevie]

I will always believe the reason Dean accepted his death so easily was because he couldn’t live another second without Cas.

We always saw how broken Dean was whenever Cas died. The coping mechanisms (alcoholism) and the deep depression he felt (literally wanting to die himself). So it wouldn’t really be a shock for him to completely give up once he realised there was no chance of getting Cas back.

I think he tried, in those 6 months, he really tried. When he kept failing he then decided he’d rather die on a hunt than live another second without his angel. Maybe in the hope he’d get him back in the afterlife. (I also believe he did before he met up with Sam on that bridge, and I’m writing a fix it fic that deals with that).

I mean Cas was a constant presence in his life for so many years. He gave up everything he knew because he believed in Dean.

He helped Dean to realise he deserved more in his life; that he wasn’t just a ‘broken hunter’ and screw up like he believed.

He helped him believe he had so much love in his heart for the world and deserved to be loved himself.

He even gave him a child to help raise.

Up until then the only person who had that kind of faith in him was probably Sam. Even his own father acted like he could never do anything right.

Yes, their relationship wasn’t perfect. Dean could be an ass to Cas. Cas betrayed Dean. But even then most of those bad moments were borne out of the deep love they felt for each other.

Which is why, whilst Dean dying at the end literally sucked and I will never believe that was a ‘good ending’ even if you aren’t a Destiel shipper, it still made sense for me because he just couldn’t see a life without Cas in it.

Anyway, happy Friday everybody 😅.

For anybody interested I have written a fic where Dean gives up all hope of getting Cas back but eventually they’re reunited. It’s definitely not like my normal fics but it ends so beautifully 🥺. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44865115/chapters/112884340

[giddlygoat]

consider: a luigi’s mansion AU where the ghosts defeat luigi before he can free mario, so he himself becomes a ghost. due to his determination to save mario in life, he still remains present at the mansion, and eventually does prevail in saving his bro, even if he has to devise a completely new approach due to his strange new circumstances.

mario is obviously horrified and heartbroken that he was unable to save his bro, and luigi in turn is half-convinced that when he set mario free he would vanish into the afterlife, having finally completed his dying wish. but luigi doesn’t fade out of existence, so him and mario are finally reunited, even if it’s not the way they had hoped.

e. gadd assures mario that luigi is in good hands because he’s a ghost expert. mario can tell that despite e. gadd’s sadness to learn of luigi’s death, he is excited to use this as an opportunity for studying luigi, which makes mario furious because of his insensitivity. e. gadd backs down though and resigns himself to asking luigi to run some tests at a much later date as to not rile up his protective brother lmao.

if i end up writing a fic about this, it will have a bittersweet ending, with luigi loosing his ability to live life as he once did but still remaining by his bro’s side, and ultimately their dynamic doesn’t change. can you tell i’m procrastinating on studying rn lawl

[nmakii]

Yan Alastor when he sees his kids arrive in hell? The family is soon to be back together again!!? I need some angst! The family drama is crazy, and im all for it.

Also i hope you’re doing okay! Sending you some supportive vibes!! Remember to take care of yourself and take breaks!

Ps: Al would totally forgive his daughter of his death and compliment her daughters aim.

STUCK WITH U?

[you should prob read the story first!]

— reunited with your children years after your death, something strange happened.

hello, nonnie!! im doing well as long as u guys r enjoying this story 🥰💕

beloved mother, wife, and daughter

resting beside her love, may her soul find his in the afterlife

if you tried to be optimistic, hell wasn’t so bad. you never had to worry much for the exterminations. nor, did you have to worry about being harassed on the streets of hell by various sinners. after all, alastor was there to protect you.

but despite that, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t tear you down to make you compliant.

you sat in a corner of alastor’s broadcast tower as he brutally tore apart another overlord. and as he went off the air, he turned to you. “are you enjoying yourself, my doe?” he asked. “i don’t understand why i have to be here…” you said, mentally hurling from his new pet name. “you’re so delicate, my love. one trip and you could break! i have to be there to make sure you’re well at all times.” he cooed to you. “stop patronizing me, alastor. i won’t let you take away my dignity.” you glared at him. “darling, i may not own your soul. but, you are still my wife. you are mine, understand?” he explained, walking to you.

you didn’t respond to him, refusing to let him degrade your self worth. to this, he grew angry— grabbing you by your jaw and scalp, his claws scratching against your porcelain skin, lovingly yet still rough, as if he thought it was for your own good. “i said, do you understand?”

his face came close to your’s as he kept a tight grip on your hair, waiting for your answer. your fight or flight response was sending signals and going haywire as you tried to pull away from his touch. “yes— gh, let go of me, alastor. please…” you begged as he finally let go. “good girl.”

and just then, an awfully convenient knock came from the door. a man with lamb-like features peered through the door. “and, who might you be?” alastor raised an eyebrow to the man. “so it’s true… d-dad..! it’s me!” the familiar voice said. could it be?

“noah— is that you..?” you asked. you hoped it wasn’t him, that he didn’t end up in hell. but at the same time, you wished to see your son one more time so badly. “momma, it’s me!” he smiled, hugging you and alastor tightly. “ah, my boy…” alastor sighed. “you’re so much older than your old man now, huh?” he remarked. but then, it hit you, he was dead.

“wh— dear, what happened, how did you die?” you asked. “killed in action, ma. guess i should’ve just retired already…” he joked. “oh, my son…” alastor grinned.

and things were normal— at least, as normal as they could be with your deranged husband. things stayed as they were for 13 years.

when rumor spread of a mysterious man-eating sinner— she uses them to build her power, and then she drops them like dirt trash. she’s amassed so much power, she’s certainly a threat to alastor’s power. if he couldn’t get rid of her, perhaps he could keep her under his thumb.

“well, how do you do, sweetheart? alastor, pleasure to meet you, quite the pleasure! this over here is my darling wife!” alastor introduced both him and yourself to the older woman with features that resembled a coyote. “alastor..? is that you, dad?” the honey-like voice asked.

alastor’s eyes had widened as he realized the woman in front of him. “little emi, is that you?” emilia reached out to hug the both of you. she aged beautifully, still as charming as she was the day you died.

“oh, my pretty girl, you’ve made quite the name for yourself down here in hell, hm?” alastor grinned at his daughter. “i learned from the best!” she laughed back.

and as they conversed, you felt like an odd man out. as if alastor was talking to his own clone. given, she is her father’s daughter after all.

“darling! our little emi is here, our little family is reunited at last.” alastor grinned to you. “this calls for a celebration, don’t you think? why don’t we have a special dinner tonight?” he suggested. by his tone, the only thing you could think of would be that he wants to have another sinner served on the dinner table. “i-i don’t know…” you shook your head in disagreement. “now don’t be such a negative nancy!” he laughed. “i’ll cook a feast tonight!” he declared, taking emilia to your home in hell.

and, just as you suspected, he served the flesh of a fellow overlord, fillet mignon style. “come now, dear, eat!” alastor said, encouraging you to take a bite. “no thank you… i’m not hungry.” you frowned, shaking your head. alastor looked frustrated as you denied him. “eat.” he said, shoving the meat into your mouth.

you felt sick. but, as he shoved it down your throat, you had no choice but to swallow. “delicious, isn’t it?” he asked. your stomach churned, the guilt settling in your gut. it tasted disgusting. but, as much as you wanted to protest, you were scared of what he’d do if you disagreed. “yes… it is— delicious.” he grinned. “lovely.”

and so, your family dynamic had returned to as it had 47 years ago. back to normal… that is, until that odd day.

you woke up in your bed, as per usual. and, there was a note where alastor should be. not that you weren’t grateful he wasn’t there though.

‘leaving for a sabbatical, you know overlord work! i’ll be home very soon, my doe. kisses and love.

~ A’

sabbatical, huh? he’ll be gone for quite a while, a year at most? and, without alastor, you’re free. it felt as if breathing fresh air for the first time. even if just for a year or so, you won’t have to be on his leash anymore. all would be well now, right?

right..?

but with your freedom, alastor’s protection was gone. sinners started to harass you. and without the company of emilia, you could do nothing but withstand it.

this is all apart of being free. might as well enjoy it until alastor returned, right? make the most of the year.

or, seven years.

[i-heart-hxh]

I just want to say I appreciate you for staying positive about killugon. Admittedly, I’ve given up on them. Maybe it’s too many angsty fanfics or metas I’ve seen that basically make it seem like they’ll never be close again but it’s nice to see some people still going strong with this ship! Hopefully one day I can enjoy this ship again the way I used to. Currently everything I read about them in fandom just depresses me.

Hi anon!

I'm sad to hear the negativity has gotten to you to this degree! It actually surprises me how much the fandom seems to think what happened between them can't be fixed. I've been into HxH for almost 8 years now and as time has gone on and I've revisited the series and analyzed it deeply and discussed it with others, I've only grown more certain that things between them will be okay--assuming Togashi can reach that point in the series. And right now is a great time to be hopeful about the future of HxH, with Togashi working so actively on the series the past few months.

Sooo many of the messages in my inbox amount to "Is there really hope? Are Gon and Killua really going to reunite and reconcile? Or is their relationship hopelessly broken?" so even though I feel like a bit of a broken record addressing this topic so much, it seems like it's a topic people really want addressed, so here's some more of my thoughts. (Trying to make my answers on this topic at least a little different each time even if some repetition is inevitable...!)

Here's this post I made of some of the reasons I anticipate a Gon and Killua reunion and fixing their relationship. And here's this eye-opening analysis post of the separation, yet again, which also offers hope.

So much of HxH is about second chances. It's about how love and human connections transform people and make life worth living, no matter how painful and difficult it may be. At the end of Chimera Ant Arc, Meruem and Komugi (who are, by the way, absolutely parallels for Gon and Killua) find their meaning for living in each other, and decide to stay together even knowing the only way they can be together is in the afterlife. If you trace back this scene to all the factors and character moments that made it possible, it goes all the way back to Gon extending kindness to Killua and changing his life. I believe Gon and Killua are on a path wherein they will ultimately find their meaning in each other and vow to stay together again (albeit without the dying part).

Gon and Killua are the protagonists of the series, and they are emblematic of the themes of HxH. Looking at the themes of HxH and the worldview it presents, it doesn't make sense for Gon and Killua to experience this horrible traumatic incident as the young teens they are, then never ever get to fix and resolve it even though they're both clearly upset to have to leave each other and they definitely have more to say to each other. Why show them feeling dissatisfied and unhappy to separate if they'll never get a chance to fix things and be happy together again? Do you really think that's the direction Togashi wants to go in, with the focus of the series and the repeated emphasis on how the hope we can find in a cruel, painful world rests in the connections we have with the people around us?

It's meaningful that they make each other so happy and transformed each others' lives. It's meaningful that even now in merch and artwork and such, they're portrayed as a pair. It's meaningful that a huge chunk of the audience so desperately wants to see them together again, and I'm certain Togashi is well aware of that. These two are at the heart of what makes HxH so wonderful and moving.

It's okay to take a break from the ship if it's not bringing you joy. Sometimes I get frustrated by takes and interpretations I see about it, too, trust me. Ultimately, it's here for you whenever you want to revisit it, and there are plenty of fanworks with happy endings and reconciliation between them if you need something to tide you over until canon hopefully resolves things between them. But do what feels right for yourself--it's okay to focus on something fluffier and less complex if that's what you need for now. I hope eventually you can come to see it with more hope, as I have lots of hope for their future--and I don't think it's unwarranted at all. 💖

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hi, I know you guys only searching for destiel fics but I'm just wondering if you guys also have any recommendations for dean acting like parent ish fic?

Hey! Here's some we could think of.

Fics where Dean doesn't consider himself a parent at first but ends up becoming one:

Kriah by ioascc

Dean can do this. He can. He can raise Jack Kline, Lucifer’s baby. No, not Lucifer’s… Cas’ kid. Their kid. With his mother gone, and Castiel dead, Dean finds himself hanging on by a thread. Castiel has died so many times on him, Dean is half-convinced himself that Cas will return to him. Dean evades the pain of the truth, carrying on in false hope until his soul renders into a million pieces. He learns quickly that taking care of a newborn is not for the faint of heart, sleep-deprivation, grief, and feedings rule most of the early days. During this time, Dean is forced to build a new life for himself. With a new name and identity change, Dean becomes a Dad. Something Castiel would be proud of. Dean cooks, he cleans, he reads, he sings his ABCs and 123s, and ultimately Dean does his best for Jack. It’s not until Jack grows into a small child that Dean feels like he can breathe again. The grief no longer suffocates him. His new life has meaning. He sees family and he allows himself to miss Castiel. To mourn him, to love him in death. And when Jack goes to school, Dean is once again reunited with friends and enemies from his past.

let's take a drive by sobsicles

Dean takes a really, really long drive to kick fear in the ass. It might just be the best thing he ever decides to do.

right in the palm of your hand by LoversAntiquities

Five years after Castiel's death, Dean has built a life in Murphy, North Carolina. A decent life, with a house he built with his own hands, and Jack, now five years old and beginning kindergarten in the fall. Only, after a string of failed relationships and sleepless nights staring at the urn on his windowsill, he makes an unwilling decision--to bury Castiel for good. Only, the night he and Jack bury Castiel's ashes, the unthinkable happens--Castiel rises from the dead, wounded from his time in the Empty, and with his resurrection comes questions Dean never thought he would need answered. Namely, how long will Castiel stay with him--and will the Empty come back for him, once and for all?

The Other Baby by DoctorProfessorSong

This is a canon-adjacent series of one shots in a world where Jack is reset as a baby and being raised by TFW. I am going to pick and choose canon at will and may not even be consistent between the stories. Seriously, it's just a bunch of fluff and angst surrounding babies and toddlers.

You Belong Among The Wildflowers by ImYourHoneyBee

Cas is gone and Dean doesn't know how to deal. Sunk deep into the worst depression he's ever been through Dean only pulls himself together when Jack comes to visit, intent on repairing his relationship with Castiel's son. Eventually, as a result of an offhanded comment Sam makes, Dean begins to dream of a better future and becomes determined to rescue Castiel from the Empty. It's a rough go, but he's successful and Cas is back. Fed nightmares during his time in the darkness of an angel's afterlife, Castiel doesn't believe that Dean is real. Refusing to speak or to come out of the literal closet, will Cas let Dean persuade him that he really is saved?

2. Dean helping with Cas' kids

A Little Grace by tricia_16

Castiel is well aware that a handsome, surprisingly gentle alpha like Dean was way out of his league even before he made the decision to become a single parent. Dean's been kicking himself for blowing his shot with Cas before he could even ask for it, and now Cas is happily taken (and adorably pregnant) by an alpha who doesn't deserve him. Neither one of them could have guessed that Castiel's baby would be what brings them together, but it turns out that a little Grace goes a long way.

Let Me Come Home by prosopopeya

It would be very inconvenient for Castiel to get a crush on Claire's foster parent.

Swan Upon Leda by kelsstiel

Pediatric Surgery Fellow Dean Winchester meets baby Jack Kline and neuropsychologist Castiel Novak his first week on the job. Dean’s been accused a time or two of caring a little too much in the past and it’s hard not to care about the neurotic adoptive father and his medically needy preemie. After a series of run-ins between the pair, Dean and Cas develop a friendship that everyone else around them suspect more from immediately, though it takes them a little longer to get the memo. When Dean struggles with a particularly devastating patient loss, their mutual understanding of loss and love bring them closer in a way that neither of them could have expected.

Start of Something Good by tricia_16

Dean Winchester is introduced to his new neighbor, Castiel, and his daughter, Claire, in an unexpected way. When an unlikely connection forms between Dean and Claire it also helps to push Castiel and Dean closer together. But Castiel has been hurt badly in the past and it's up to Dean to prove to Castiel that he can be trusted with both his daughter and his heart, even when outside sources try to make Castiel believe differently…

3. Dean acting like Sam's parent even though they're siblings:

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

I Wanna Get Outside (Of Me) by emwebb17

Dean is a novice in the dom/sub world asked by his employer as a desperate last resort to be a sub for his recluse of a brother, Castiel. Castiel is a diagnosed OCD suffering from PTSD and agoraphobia, mysophobia, and dystychiphobia. Needless to say—he’s a mess who hasn’t stepped out of his home in literally seven years. The only times Gabriel can see traces of the way his brother used to be is when he feels in control—specifically when he has control over a sub. However, due to his idiosyncrasies and paranoia, keeping a sub around has been impossible. Enter Dean, who’s not a very traditional submissive, to try his hand at subbing for the hermit.

Proof of Love by VioletHaze

Working two jobs and doing his best to pretend his little brother wasn’t leaving for Stanford in a few months, Dean let his friend Benny talk him into a much needed night out. What started out as a fun evening at the bar ended with Dean drunk and face-to-face with a couple of cops outside a bakery. When the bakery owner gave him the chance to come back the next day and deal with his mess instead of going to jail, Dean knew he’d been given an opportunity he couldn’t squander. If only the blue-eyed guy didn’t seem to hate Dean…

White-Collar Contract by CBFirestarter, TrenchcoatBaby

Caught between the lesser of two evils, omega Dean Winchester is thrown into the orbit of Castiel Novak—a gorgeous, older, and incredibly wealthy businessman…and perhaps the only alpha who wants him for his brains, not his body. Castiel has no interest in bending Dean over the nearest surface and fucking his brains out, which is a first. Not that Dean cares about the alpha’s lack of interest. Nope. Uh-uh. He couldn’t care less.

[slayfics]

This is rlly angsty. Sooo what about muichiro in his afterlife meeting the reader, and the reader is still upset that he left her despite promising to stay with her? Make it have a happy ending please. Thank you!

You meet Muichiro in the afterlife.

As everything started to fade, you realized you weren't scared. You had lived a long enough life with the people around you, and you were more than ready to be reunited with your friends that had passed before you.

You'd miss your friends that you were leaving behind dearly, but you knew you'd be reunited with them at some point. Now it was time to move on from this life.

Everything was dark, but only for a while. A light started to grow but a veil of mist made it hard to decipher where you were.

Slowly, a silhouette started to appear. At first, it was unrecognizable, until you made out the flowing hair of an unmistakable person from your past.

Muichiro looked as beautiful as ever as he made his way through the mist to greet you.

As happy as you were to see him again, you couldn't help the anger that began to boil in your stomach. Muichiro had been taken from you so many years ago. It was unfair you didn't get to live this life alongside him. Why did he have to leave you?

The anger boiled up until it spilled over. You found yourself yelling at the Hashira.

"How could you have left me?! I lived all those years without you! It was torturous existing without you!" you cried and shoved Muichiro with both hands. The Hashira's expression did not change. He looked at you with the same loving expression as when he had first appeared, standing calmly and accepting your assaults.

"I visited your grave every day, but it wasn't the same. I needed you with me, and you left me!" you cried, collapsing onto the endless floor.

Muichiro sat beside you and pulled you into a hug.

"You visited me every day to share a meal with me, and I enjoyed every bite. You could not see me, but I was there. You were never alone," he said as you softened in his embrace. "I know my early departure hurt you. I can not make up for that, but if you would have me, I waited for you to walk into the next life together." It was then you felt his tears hit the top of your head. Muichiro was crying too.

Shame washed over you at your harsh greeting to the Hashira. You didn't mean to be so rough.

"I'm so sorry Muichiro... I just missed you beyond what I can express. There isn't anyone else I'd want to walk into the next life with," you said, nuzzling your head into his embrace.

Muichiro placed his hand under your chin and pushed your head up into a kiss.

"First, there are some people I would like you to meet," Muichiro responded. You looked off into the mist and saw three outlines approaching, one of which looked identical to Muichiro.

We love angst here! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy the fic! I have a few more thanks to give. Thank you to @plvuii for offering to proof read my writings. You’ve helped out this poor dyslexic writer more than you know! Please check her out she makes amazing fics of her own! A special thanks once again to @valartsstuff for allowing me to use her adorable artwork. Please check her out if you haven’t already, you’ll be doing yourself a favor hehe~

[daemon-in-my-head]

I think it's important to remember that the people of Faerûn know for a fact that death doesn't mean the end of things. That an afterlife exists and for elves, that they will one day return. And how that would impact the actions and beliefs of people.

We can still have this tiny hope that there may be a heaven or valhalla or underworld or what have you where you'd be reunited with those you lost, but Gortash and Durge do not have this little luxury.

They know for a fact there is a special place in their gods domain waiting for them, one way or another, and that their only way to escape it would be to crumble and vanish in the fugue plane, like countless other lost souls, selling their soul to a devil just so they can suffer endlessly before maybe one day climbing the rank, or to become part of the wall that surrounds Kelemvors city of judgement.

But whichever choice they make, they won't be reunited again like all those other lovers and fools may be. Their death means their final separation, their forever parting, as those special places reserved for them are governed by two warring patrons who'd attempt to wreck the world before giving in to one another again.

[thewertsearch]

AA: is it coming back yet TA: is WHAT c0ming back, wh0 ARE y0u? TA: wh0a h0ld 0n. TA: why am i talking like y0u suddenly?

Blankness isn't always a bad thing.

Unlike Aradia's ghostly depression, Sollux's emptiness will come as something of a relief, because it means his head is finally free of voices.

What's up, Jade? I guess you are the most likely human to be sleeping at any given time.

Feferi's Horrorterror alliance is really starting to pay dividends. Now that Jade's joined the party, the humans can finally consult with the living Aradia, who's regained her will to help. She's been dropping hints about what she knows for a long time, and she has to be ready to spill by now.

In short: It's time to hear from the only troll who actually knows what's going on.

TA: h0ly shit, i can't see! AA: yes thats what being blind means TA: w0w, awes0me! way t0 be awes0mely sympathetic t00 my terrible new pr0blem, aa. AA: sollux will you shut up and stop being so tragic for once AA: you knew this was going to happen! your prophecies of personal doom were practically all you ever talked about AA: i think you were looking forward to this honestly [Robo] AA: shes right TA: i can't believe this, it's alm0st as if i'm getting… TA: D0UBLE TEAMED.

These two are playing off each other extremely well.

You can really see the cute couple that they'd have made in life - and perhaps in death, too, since Sollux is destined to die again. Either way, he and Aradia will be seeing a lot of each other.

TA: that didn't feel right at all, i think i might have t0 retire the wh0le bifurcati0n gimmick, puns and all. TA: actually that is kind 0f a relief, maybe y0u're right, i'm feeling better ab0ut this already.

Those visions were really fucking with his head, I think, moreso than he ever let on. Getting KOed by a Hope laser might have been the best thing that ever happened to him.

So, uh.... I guess, thank you, Eridan?

AA: great! AA: you should be able to relax now that youve been released from the curse of your vision twofold just like you said youd be AA: you are now merely doomed!

TA: i'm g0ing t0 die again, aren't i.

AA: see you soon ;)

[Robo] AA: being d00med isnt that bad [Robo] AA: i spent m0st 0f my life that way remember […] [Robo] AA: actually i guess i dont have to keep talking like im doomed anymore do i

You deserve to cheer up a little, so I'm glad you're also letting go of the 'doomed' schtick.

This afterlife seems like a pretty sweet deal, especially for a Time Player. You retain your personhood, you can reunite with your co-Players, and for the first time since the meteors hit, you're not on the clock.

Side note - if the Aradiabots were using the zeroes because they were timeline-doomed, why was Alpha Aradia using it? Did she just feel inescapably doomed? I guess that tracks.

[yanderehsr]

Hey, Doc. I hope you okay. Sorry if my english is bad, 'cuz it's not my native language and I'm trying not to use a translator. But, can I request Blade, Jing Yuan, and Luocha with reader who dies in their arm because protecting them from enemies? I mean, I'm curious about their reaction.

Nah, your english is fine, but maybe I'm not the best person to judge that, english aint my native language either😅

Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, ANGST

Blade: Everything goes quiet, he doesn't hear or see anything but your fresh corpse in his arms, why did you have to protect him, he didn't need protection, he can't die either way, he doesn't even notice himself being stabbed over and over again by the enemy, it doesn't even register in his mind.

Blade goes berserk on your killer, you wont even be able to identify them after he is done with them, he will become a hollow shell of his former self, attacking recklessly and without care, it's like he is chasing his own death, to be reunited with you in the afterlife, but his death never comes.

"WHY... Why can't I just die already... I miss you so much"

Jing Yuan: It was just a careless mistake on his part, turning his back to the enemy, but it cost him a life, not his but yours. He sees you drop to the ground, he doesn't know how to react, his love, his precious light just got snuffed out.

Jing Yuan blames himself, he should've been stronger, he should've protected you better, but he knows that everything is too late now, he was too weak to protect you, if he had just been better you would be in his arms now laughing and smiling... And just like that he fell down and became mara-struck as so many had before him.

"I'm sorry, I was too weak... I love you so much, I hope we can be reunited one day"

Luocha: His reaction is hate, not towards you, never towards you, but towards the cycle of death and life and the one who killed you. He doesn't care what he has to do, no matter who he has to kill, he will get you back, you are his and not even death will keep him away.

It may take years, even decades for Luocha to revive you, to see life in your eyes yet again, but he never gives up, and when you finally wake up again he is overjoyed, he will make sure you are protected this time, he will keep quiet about the thousands of deaths needed to ressurect you tho, no need to talk about useless stuff like that.

"I have waited so long for you to come back and now that you are I don't know what to say... welcome back, love"

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 16: Riddles

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.8k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

The manor is mute except for the scratch of paper as you flip the page of Astarion’s sketchbook and contemplate the detailed drawing of yourself. You frown as you try to brush the name over the woman, painting her with the letters and hues of every syllable. It doesn’t matter what portrait you look at; the name still feels foreign and unrecognizable.

Whoever the woman in these drawings is, she is lost to you. She took her name to the grave, and some things cannot be exhumed. You close the book, your eyes sailing up the wall toward the ceiling.

Should you miss her? Grieve her? Forget her?

Climbing onto the bed, you hold your palm out, summoning the flames from the candles. You close your fist to extinguish them and let the black wings of darkness envelop the room. You have a strange feeling that you’re not entirely that woman any longer, which you can’t put into words. You were disassembled somewhere between life, death, and this everlasting afterlife, and your pieces weren’t arranged in quite the same pattern.

You have lost and gained so much in so little time. Would you recognize yourself even if you had a reflection?

There’s an ache in the vacant chamber where your dead heart hangs, frozen in the static state of death. The pang of discomfort doesn’t belong to you, though. Astarion has been leaving the link open more and more, and you’re learning what he meant when he said the world around him seems to move in slow motion.  

You once made the mistake of thinking Astarion could no longer feel, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. The reality is that he feels everything with an intensity you cannot begin to fathom. His emotions are like shooting stars. They streak through him, blazing bright and winking out in the blink of an eye.

His beating heart gives away Astarion's return. He doesn’t bother lighting a candle when he enters the room, hanging his formal suit coat.

You light a candle with a twitch of your finger. “You must forgive yourself, Astarion.”

Astarion sighs, rubbing his face. “What gave me away this time?”

“The same thing.” You splay your hand across your chest. This is not the first time you’ve mentioned the ache, as if your heart is in a perpetual state of being torn. “When you hurt, I hurt.”

You feel his intention to cut the coupling, to give you a break from the pain, and you fight against it.

“Don’t,” you rebuke, narrowing your eyes at the increasing pressure in your head. “Please. Stop trying to shut me out.”  

Astarion’s eyes fall to the sketchbook you left on the bedside table. “Do you not recognize your name still?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head and fidgeting with your fingers. This is the whole reason for the pain he’s been wallowing in—a bog of guilt and shame. He’s more upset over it than you are. You smile, making your voice a gentle hug. “Give me some time, and I will get used to it.”

“You should not have to get used to your own fucking name,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes closed, and the pain in your chest increases. It feels like your heart is warping itself into knots. “Not even Cazador went as far as to remove my name from my memory.”

“You are not Cazador,” you snap back sternly. “Stop comparing yourself to him. The situation is entirely different.”

“No,” Astarion growls, raising his voice, overtaken by repulsion. “I’m something much worse. At least there were limits to his power. No restrictions hinder me.”

“Good Gods! Just stop!” You yell, jumping off the bed. You’re unsure if your anger is partly due to what Astarion is feeling or your irritation at his self-loathing. At least he cannot remember taking you to the kennels. You don’t think he will ever recover. “You’re not him, and you’re not the darkness inside. You must separate the two.”

Astarion scoffs, turning away and waving dismissively, “I think it best if you rest in your room tonight.”

You deflate, anger being replaced by his disregard and the sharp sting of rejection. Astarion has been making you sleep in your room for days. At first, you thought he needed space, but he’s only become increasingly distant and withdrawn.

“Why are you doing this?” You step toward him, but he tenses and shies away, making you halt. You try to decipher his retreat through the bond, but Astarion is carefully guarding his emotions.

“Doing what?” He asks casually, keeping his blank stare on the wall.

“You show me an open door, then slam it on me and pull the rug out from under my feet!” You look up, hating that tears have begun crawling down your cheeks. “You think keeping your distance from me is keeping me safe, but you’re tearing me apart. Do you even want me here anymore, Astarion? Should I go?”

“Don’t go,” he whispers, brittle and weak. If your hearing were not so sharp, thanks to your vampirism, you wouldn’t have heard him. There’s another stab in your chest that feels like it rips the muscles right off your bones, and you whimper, clutching at your skin. “Please.”

“I can’t take this anymore,” you plead, taking another step, only to watch him tense. Your arms drop to your sides. Your heartbreak is affecting him. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, and he winces almost imperceptibly at every sob you stifle. “Why are you pushing me away?”

Astarion finally turns, wracking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if I can be what you need me to be—what you deserve.”

“I know you don’t love me,” you sigh, shrugging. It always comes back to this. “You need to listen to me; let my words sink into your skin and fade into your soul. I missed you with such intensity that it felt like I died every day we were apart. You are my forever, even if I am not yours, and that’s okay.” You shake your head dismially, unsure how to get through to him. “I love you. Goodnight.”

You’re near your room when Astarion appears in front of you out of thin air, and you bump into him. He vaults you off your feet and into his arms before you can register his movement, making you yelp at the surprise of having your feet swept out.

“Shit,” He holds you firmly against him, his lips pressed to your forehead in a lingering kiss. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave. Stay with me, little love. I need you.”

“Stop pushing me away.” You tangle your fingers into his hair, with your face nestled into the crook of his neck.

“I will.” His hand comes to the back of your head as he walks back to his room and places you gently on the bed with adoration in his eyes. “You are my forever, Illyria. Aeterna Amantes.”

“Lovers forever,” you finish, sidling up close to him and laying your head on his chest.

The teeth of guilt gnawing inside your chest cavity have finally relinquished your heart as their chew toy, and all that remains is the steady thrum of Astarion’s borrowed heartbeat.

“Until the world falls down, my love,” he purrs, placing a finger under your chin and his lips embracing yours.

The slow rocking rise and fall of his chest is like the sway of gentle waves; the beat of his heart is a lullaby whispering serenity into your soul, and you slip peacefully into your trance.

Upon waking, your hand meanders across the silken surf of the sheets, only to find Astarion’s side of the bed cold and void. Rolling onto your back, your eyes drag open, and you listen for the telltale susurrus of a heartbeat. A frown creases your forehead when you’re met with nothing but the anonymous creaks and groans of the manor.

Astarion doesn’t usually leave without mentioning his absence as a warning to stay indoors and away from the windows. A florid scent catches your attention, prompting you to turn your head.

On Astarion’s pillow, a red rose rests and a folded note with your name penned in his delicate, flowing hand.

“Good morning, beautiful.

I apologize for my absence, but I am not far. I’ve left blood for you in the kitchen.

Eternally yours,

Astarion.”

The promise of awaiting blood stirs you to your feet hastily. Your belly coils with anticipation, and you barely have enough restraint to dress and run a comb through your hair before you’re bounding down the stairs.

A golden goblet, elaborately etched with prismatic dragon scales that mirror yours, sits on the counter. You snatch it greedily and bring it to your lips. The blood is cool, so you allow your palms to heat slowly, warming it as it inspires your taste buds to recite their devotion to the ambrosial elixir. It’s unmistakably Astarion’s blood. It knocks you over in a wave of delirium that makes your knees weak, and you lean into the counter to keep yourself from melting into the floor.

You’re not sure if it’s your imagination or reality, but you veritably hear Astarion chuckling in your head.

The meal is finished too soon, and you groan as you clean the last traces from your lips. When you open your dreamily heavy eyes, another folded note, previously hidden by the flared base of the goblet, catches your attention. You blink rapidly to clear the insensibility glazed across your sight before you can make any sense of the words before you.

“Find me using the clues I have scattered for you, my clever Illyria.

We have much to discuss.

“Reminisce beneath the faded tapestries, where laughter once echoed; seek the embers of our stolen kiss."

Clues? What in the Hells is Astarion up to, and what the fuck do you have to discuss? An icy shock runs from your dead heart into your feet. Is it possible he found out about Mizora and knows you’ve been keeping something from him? Would he play a game of cat and mouse with you?

You would not put it past him.

He’s left the link between you open, and you cannot feel any malice vibrating in the orchestra of emotions. If he’s figured out your secret, he’s hidden it well.

You stare at the hint with a furrowed brow. Embers of your stolen kiss? Faded tapestries? The pad of your finger rubs over the fringe of scales scored into the goblet’s surface while you think, and then you realize the damn chalice itself is another tip.

This does not belong to Astarion, or it didn’t before you and he stole it after breaking into a shop one night during your adventure. Astarion caught you eyeing it while you were buying supplies. You deemed it an impractical purchase. There was a far more dire need for healing potions and other necessities than to waste coin on frivolous trinkets.

He woke you up that night, dressed entirely in black, and dragged you back to the shop for a thrilling night of thievery and resulting debauchery. Where did you two go after to celebrate?

The Blushing Mermaid.

You dress quickly in a red dress with lace sleeves and a glimmering, golden dragon that snakes up your side. The skirt hugs your hips, flares slightly, and flutters around your knees. The golden bands of the matching hairpiece and circlet wreathe your forehead and long hair.

Throwing on your sandals, you stop dead at the door. The sun still shines outside, as evidenced by the tawny luminance glowing between the cracks in the drapery.

Astarion’s voice frisks across the bond: “You needn’t fear, love. You are safe.”

“What are you up to, Ascendant?” You query back, opening the door slowly and sticking your hand in the small ray to validate his claims.

He giggles, “Solve the riddles, and all will be revealed in time.”

The sky sings of sunset in hues of fire hearths gilded with golden inlays. Despite Astarion’s assurance, your skin still flinches over your muscles as if trying to pull itself away from your figure. Your eyes keep steadily on the majesty of the horizon as you trot through the streets to the Blushing Mermaid.

With the recent meal sloshing around in your stomach, your bloodlust is easier to manage. Still, when citizens brush by with their dainty necks on display, you’re tempted to give them a nibble.

The tavern is as busy as it typically is for late afternoon, but most patrons take no notice of you, engrossed in their revelry.

“Ah, the leaking blood bag.” Captain Grisly’s voice drifts from her quarters. “Nice to see you again. I hardly recognized you without your quarterstaff and haggard, blood-soaked robe.”

When you turn and her eyes catch the cracked crimson of yours, she gasps but holds her tongue with a clenched jaw.

You smile reassuringly and taunt, “Don’t worry. I won’t bite unless you ask very nicely.” There is something about people being afraid of you that’s thrilling. You cannot explain why. Perhaps you’re learning to accept this new you instead of feeling ashamed. It’s freeing. “Was my pale companion here earlier?”

The woman eyes you skeptically and nods, “Yes, Lord Ancunin was in earlier, but he warned me not to assist you.”

“Of course he did.” You roll your eyes as Astarion chuckles in your head. “It was nice to see you.”

“Please try not to make a meal out of my patrons,” Captain Grisly smirks. “The cleaning bills are already enough of a menace.”

You chuckle while your eyes dart around, trying to remember what you and Astarion got up to that night. The memory is garbled under the lagoon of ale you must have drunk.

You drank a lot. You danced. Oh Gods. You danced on the stage.

Your eyes swing to the faded tapestries hanging above a small alcove. Astarion had dragged you off the stage when your provocative swaying earned the attention of too many ogling eyes for his comfort.

“You are a godsdamned delinquent, Illyria,” he’d purred in your ear while he ironed his body to you possessively, shielding you from the onlookers with a forearm pressed above your head. “I have half a mind to take you right here, enchantress, to show these fools you belong to me.”

A small table sits in the alcove with a single candle lit. A white rose rests on it, with a dainty silver chain wrapped around the verdant stem. Unwrapping it, you hold a locket in your hand. The edges are adorned with two exquisitely detailed dragons, one light silver and one dark, forming a heart. In the middle, a black diamond is held by the silver dragon, and a normal diamond is held by the dark one, creating a magnificent contrast.

Opening the clasp, your eyes anchor to a sketch you haven’t seen before. It’s not of the mortal woman you don’t remember. It’s of you, as you must appear now. Your eyes are the only thing in vivid colour, and your fangs peek out of your smiling lips. Even though the picture is small, it holds an impossible amount of detail.

The smooth metal of the back is engraved with Astarion’s nickname for you, Amarillis. It’s Elven, your mother tongue, for Flame-Flower.

Putting the locket on, you find another note nestled between the petals of the rose.

“Where the forgotten lay to rest under the celestial canopy, find the crimson-kissed stone where a single star shines alone.”  

If you know Astarion, he’s left another hint somewhere in plain sight, like the goblet. You scan your surroundings for anything that looks out of place, and you find an image hanging on the wall behind the stage that you don’t recall being there.

You recognize the statue, Balduran Looks Out to Sea, located in the Tumbledown district of the outer city. It’s not an area you’ve spent much time in. Astarion and you went to sit on the cliff and watch the sunrise the day before you went to kill or be killed by Cazador.

Now, you just need to get there without eating anyone.

Twilight is a tangible whisper, bruising the stretch of sky in purple and navy when you return to the streets. Alleys and paths are easiest for you to traverse, and sometimes you Misty Step and skate over the roofs when you feel bloodlust evaporating from your control.

At least Tumbledown is far less busy than the Lower City, thanks to the misty veil that never seems to disentangle from the town. The soft percussion of waves from the River Chionthar pulsing upon the cliffside is rhythmic as you walk up the quiet path leading to the statue.

You reread the note, “Where the forgotten lay.”

Cliffside Cemetery.

The large graveyard spreads before you, composed of a bafflingly complex network of headstones, tombs, and old mausoleums. You keep your eye out for anything red, which will appear brazenly against the drab background of the assorted greys and greens of the mossy tombstones.

The moonlight casts eerie shadows that stretch and disfigure the terrain. The stars ignite the velvet wreath of night as you finally come upon a headstone with a red rose draped over it.

The weather over the centuries has worn, stained, and cracked the stone. Crouching, you carefully wipe off the grime that dulls the worn epitaph.

“Astarion Ancunin,” it reads.

Rest Peacefully Beneath a Canopy of Stars.

Your fingers trace the jagged lines unconsciously as tears brim in your eyes, sinking to your knees.

“I have not returned since I punched a hole in my coffin and dug through six feet of dirt nearly 200 years ago.” Astarion’s voice floats from behind you.

Leaping to your feet, you whirl with more agility than you’ve ever possessed and thrust yourself into his arms. Astarion is dressed in clothing reminiscent of his camp clothes, leaving the typical opulence of the Vampire Ascendant behind.

“You are not forgotten, Astarion,” you whisper against his chest.

Astarion’s arms wrap around you. His timbre is angelic and deep, vibrating through your skin and massaging your spirit. “I was. For 200 years, I was a ghost stalking the streets while whoever I was, whoever I could have been, lay dead and buried."

Taking your hand, he walks toward his grave, letting his fingers coast over the roughened stone. “Cazador was waiting for me when I surfaced, hacking up dirt and congealed blood. I was his from that day forward. Even this grave is located on lands once owned by the Szarr family. Yet another nod to his ownership of me, I suppose.”

His finger taps the headstone, but he’s smiling when he turns to look at you—a real, genuine smile that fills your heart with warmth. “Then you fell like an angel from the heavens, quite literally, and waged war on everything I thought I knew about the world. You gave me something I had been without for centuries—hope.”

“I’m no angel,” you whisper.

“You’re my angel, Illyria,” he asserts. With Astarion’s attire and the way he’s speaking, which is so entirely familiar, there’s a shot of recognition that stirs your psyche. For the first time since you relearned it, your name is not an abstract word in your head. Astarion must feel it because he smiles broadly and continues, “No one cared, no one gave me a second look, and no Gods answered my prayers. No one is like you; you’re you. You stood with me through bloodlust, pain, and misery. You trusted me. You were patient. You cared. You were the only one who never gave up on me. You still haven’t given up on me, even though it’s an objectively stupid thing to do.”

“You were being very sweet until you called me stupid.” You giggle as he wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“Sweet and savoury, my dear,” he chuckles. “I’ve been free for over a year. Yet, I am just beginning to figure out who I am and what I truly want out of this newfound life.”

“What do you want, Astarion?” You lean into him. “The world is yours for the taking.”

“Not what,” he says, shaking his head, sliding an arm around your waist, and his fingers grazing over the locket on your neck. He smiles, “But you will have to finish this little quest to find the answers you seek.” He hands you another note and winks, “I’ll see you soon.”

Astarion gives you a small, playful shove and strides away with a smirk. He bows and shifts into an unnaturally large, white bat with crimson eyes you would recognize in a sea of them, soaring around you while you laugh.

“You’re adorable, but are you soft?” You ask.

He answers in your head with a lilting laugh, “Shall we find out?”

He lands, folding his wings and resting on his headstone, and cocks his head. Your fingers tremble, unfoundedly afraid you might hurt him, as they stroke down the alabaster fur.

“Soft and cute.”

“I aim to please,” he snickers, taking off to kiss the stars. “You are wasting time, my treasure.”

You giggle at his jeering and watch him streak through the sky, so beautifully free, before reading the note.

"Seek the shore’s embrace, where stars align, and ascend the steps, bathed in candlelight’s shine. There, seek the terrace above the riverside; a question to decide.” 

Shore’s embrace. Now, this you know well. When Astarion turned you he insisted on renting a villa with this name near the river in the Lower City.

The trek back to the Lower City somehow feels lengthier as nervousness hits you, ticking away in your chest, every beat of Astarion’s heart amplifying your anxiety as if the seconds were grains of sand slipping away, impossible to grasp.

You can’t entirely tell if it’s yours or his. With the bond open and uninhibited, you are entangled, a tapestry of threads entwined so seamlessly that it’s difficult to distinguish where one of you begins and the other ends.

If Astarion has figured out you’re hiding something, he’s given you no indication, but some part of you still wonders if you’re walking into a trap. It’s hard to control your thoughts so they do not transfer to him, which he’s been trying to teach you so that you can keep the bond open, but your private thoughts can remain your own.

It makes you wonder what thoughts he keeps from you.

You smell the aromatic perfume of roses before you round the corner. The villa hangs onto the wall and overlooks the River Chionthar. The silver waves sway and reflect the impending dawn’s early light, cradling the morning’s first blush. Candles light the steps covered in white and red rose petals. It almost feels wrong to step on something so wonderful.

The beat in your chest thrums with anticipation, like your extinct heartbeat has woken and risen from the grave as you ascend the staircase to the grand entrance. Your breath catches in your throat as you enter the foyer. The sparkling crystal chandelier is lit, casting scintillating rainbows across the room. Rosemary incense burns, filling the air with an aroma that reminds you of home—of Astarion.

You follow the scattered rose petals leading to the terrace as the golden crown of the sun crests the horizon. Fear typically follows such a sight, but you’re revelling in grandeur.

The heartbeat behind you is the only thing that alerts you to Astarion’s presence. The man seemingly appears out of thin air, but if you had that ability, you would take advantage of it too, you suppose.

“This is beautiful,” you say, and your words are abruptly cut off.

As your eyes fall on Astarion in his resplendent tailored suit, he descends to one knee. His crimson eyes meet yours, sparkling with a celestial constellation mirroring the infinity of his love. The newborn sun lights up the adoration in his features.

“Illyria, my love,” he begins in a soft whisper before your brain can catch up to what is happening. “You are the fire that lights up my darkness, a melody that soothes my troubled soul. After being with you, there is no doubt that I have touched the heavens.” He hesitates momentarily, and the bond surges with warmth, longing, devotion, and good Gods, love, “I love you, and I fall more in love with you every day. I do not know what tomorrow brings, but right now, with you, the world feels right.”

His hand reaches into his pocket and produces a small, velvet box. Lifting the lid, the quick breaths you didn’t realize you'd been taking catch in your throat as your eyes fall on an exquisite ring, nestled on a bed of crimson silk, intricately crafted with a dragon claw, clutching a heart-shaped diamond to match the locket.

Astarion’s warm caramel baritone holds the sweet promise of eternity: “Will you marry me?”

Your hand shoots to your mouth to stifle the sound that erupts from your throat, somewhere between a whimper and a squeak. Your knees fold, unable to hold your weight any longer, and you drop, folding your arms around his neck and draping yourself over him.

His hand comes to your back, and he kisses your cheek. “Is this happy crying, or have I made a grave miscalculation?”

“Happy crying,” you stutter through shaky breaths.

He chuckles, nuzzling you. “Is this a yes?”

“Yes!” You pull back, nodding in case he cannot understand you through your weeping. “But I need one thing from you."

"Ask, and I shall make it yours,” he purrs.

You cradle his cheek, sweeping your thumb across it. “Say it again.”

He smirks, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I love you.”

“One more time,” you choke out.

“Gods above,” he giggles. “Is this all you will have me say now?”

You smile, the tips of your fangs peeking from your lips. “It sounds very good in your mouth.”

“You know I do not repeat myself for anyone,” he taunts. “Anyone but you, my love.” Astarion takes your hand, slipping the ring onto your finger, looking deeply into your eyes. “I love you, Illyria, my wife, my everything.”

“I love you, too, Astarion, my husband, my shining star.”

He beams, “I do rather like that, you know,” he muses. “When you call me husband.”

His arm wraps around your waist, easing you to your feet. You clutch onto him to keep yourself upright as your knees wobble like a newborn fawn and try to watch the sunrise with your head on his chest, but your eyes keep drifting to the ring adorning your finger, reminding yourself that this did, in fact, just happen.

“Do you like it?” He murmurs, catching your eyes moored to it.

“I love it,” you whisper. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I should hope not,” he chuckles. “I designed it. No one will ever have anything similar.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh, you know me,” he shrugs. “I killed the jeweller to make sure he could never replicate it.”

Your head snaps up, wide-eyed, to look at him. He glances at you and bursts into laughter. “A jest, sweetheart.”

“I hope you at least compelled him to forget it,” you snicker. “Or I may have to drain anyone I see with anything similar.”

“Oh,” he giggles. “I do so adore it when you’re murderous. Speaking of draining someone, I’ve had you running around the city all night. You must be positively famished.”

“You fed me,” you say, arching a brow at him. “Lucky for the citizens of the Lower City. Some of them smell very tasty.”

Astarion’s hands find the back of your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you. “Not as tasty as me, I hope.”

“No one could ever be as tasty as you,” you purr. “Your blood is nearly as charming as you are.”

He chuckles, taking you into the villa and setting you on the lofty mattress. “Well, who am I to deny your hunger? I would not be a very good husband if I did not keep my lovely wife satisfied. Would I?”

“What are you saying exactly?” You sweep your fingers through his hair as he undoes the elaborate clasps of his suit jacket. He discards it and loosens the collar of his shirt. You quirk your head at him. “Speak plainly.”

“I want you to bite me,” he purrs, pushing your legs to part for him with his knee and leaning over you. His lips mould to yours in a reverential kiss as his hands wander your body and ignite your desire.

“Bite you?” You breathe. “You said I couldn’t.”

“No.” Astarion removes his shirt, and your palms skim over his chest. “I said you can’t unless I permit you. You are as close to a True Vampire as you can get, my consort. It will not change you.”

“I don’t want to change,” you murmur, your fingers pressing firmly into his sculpted muscles. The offer of blood is tempting your hunger. “You’re giving me permission?”

He smirks, “Go on then. I’ll allow it.”

“Where?” Astarion cranes his neck to the side in an invitation. It takes everything you have not to leap for that magnificently pulsing vein. “Your neck?”

“Is there something wrong with my neck, my dear?”

“No. Of course not,” you giggle. “You have a very lovely neck. This is just new, that’s all. I didn’t think you would want to be, uh, well, bitten.”

“Your bite, my sweet,” he purrs, pressing his chest against yours and pinning you between him and the mattress. “Is divine. Only you will ever get the great honour of biting the Vampire Ascendant.”

“I godsdamned better be!” You huff, “I don’t share, Astarion. Not your body, not your blood, and definitely not your heart. You are mine and only mine. ”

He giggles, “Possessive little thing. Aren’t you? Not to worry, my love. I do not intend to share. I am yours. Wholly, and completely yours.”

You trace your lips down the shell of his ear. Your heart frolics at the ardent shudder that courses through his body and how the breath hitches in his throat. Kissing his neck until you feel the vein pulsing against your lips, you wait until he whispers his shaky, anticipatory approval.

The razor-sharp points of your fangs kiss his skin, and you wait for your body to seize up, but it doesn’t. You bite quick and sure, trying your best to be gentle. You feel the pop of your fangs puncturing his skin. His blood erupts into your mouth, caressing your tongue with heavenly heat that cascades through the channels of your veins and nestles between your thighs. You drink from him slowly but deeply, and your body trembles.

Astarion groans, deep and rich, his hot breath fanning the cool skin of your neck, and you feel the icy pinch of his fangs sink into you. You wash through him, and he passes through you in a paradisiacal torrent. The pleasure that harmonizes over the bond is transcendent. You swear you could come undone for this alone, and you ease your fangs from his neck and moan.

He kisses you with a bruising intensity. His tongue parts your lips so you can taste the essence of each other, and he bucks his hips into your aching sex, sending you spiralling into that frisson of pure delirium.

The clothes on your body feel much too restricting, and you whimper. The barrier of fabric between you feels unbearable. Astarion’s fingers go to his trousers, but his usual adroitness is nowhere to be seen as his fingers fumble with the laces.

He stares at his fingers dumbfounded for a moment and then looks at you with an arched brow and giggles gleefully, “Do you by any chance feel absurdly intoxicated?”

You writhe on the bed, unable to contain your ardent lust, as your brain awkwardly processes his question.

“Entirely,” you laugh. Gods. You thought you were high on him last time, but you are almost senseless in your need. You’re not even sure if you’re walking on the planes of reality or in some delightful hallucination, and you cannot find it within you to care. “Is this not normal?”

Astarion throws his trousers to the side, rucks up your dress clumsily, and tosses it away. “I’m not entirely sure. I may have read something about it, but I cannot quite remember where or when.” He shrugs. “We will have to experiment.”

Precum glistens, dripping from the head of his swollen cock. You are overcome with the absolute need for his salty, heady taste on your tongue. You lunge at him, bowling him over. Your movements are somehow swift and equally ungainly.

You lick up his shaft with a long, broad tongue stroke, feeling the ridges of his distended veins, before you engulf him in the wet heat of your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the blunt head of his cock. He sucks in sharp, shuddering breaths, fingers in your hair as you worship him, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, taking him deeper and deeper until his cock tickles the back of your throat.

“Illyria,” he moans breathlessly. “Hells. You’ve got to stop before I lose my composure.”

But you’re not entirely sure you could stop, even if you wanted to. No. You want to feel his cock twitching on your tongue and his seed shooting into your throat. You want to drink his essence like a fine wine.

“Illyria,” he warns, trembling fingers curling into your hair. You feel the telltale pulse, hear the way his breath becomes ragged and uneven, and you take him over the edge in a few bobs of your head. He cries out, your name a sweet litany in his voice.

His seed bursts into your mouth, and you moan at the salt of him, swallowing every drop he gives you like a thirsty traveller. He is candied like heaven, wicked like hell, and, oh, so fucking delicious.

He pulls your head back by your hair and stares at you like he has found an oasis in an arid desert. You lick your swollen, red lips, determined to get every last drop of him that you can.

“Bad girl,” he purrs, shoving you flat on your back and pressing his lips to yours. He explores your mouth. “I taste exultant on your tongue.”

His fingers run through the seam of your dripping folds, coating them in the sleek of your arousal and easing into your fluttering channel. Astarion presses the pads firmly into that sweet spot inside that blinds you with pleasure, the heel of his palm caressing your clit with mind-numbing friction.

It does not take him long to settle into a rhythm that throws you somersaulting over the cusp of your own release with a lewd, wild cry, and he does not stop until he’s lured every possible shockwave from your body.

Astarion grabs your waist, tugging you down the bed as he settles between your thighs, sliding his length through your folds, his head teasing your overstimulated pearl. He guides himself into you, working your sex open inch by inch as you stretch to accommodate his girth.

Where everything before this was wild, almost savage, and borderline uncivilized, this is slow, passionate, and unhurried. He rocks his hips in languid pumps, coming to his forearm with his forehead pressed against yours. He is not fucking you. He is making love to you.

“You are mine,” he rasps through shaky gasps. It is not a proclamation of his ownership of you. It is not a command. It’s more of a plea for reassurance. “Yes?”

“Yours,” you confirm breathlessly, your eyes squeezed closed in pure rapture as he massages every one of your ridges poetically. Your fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck, and you cling to him as if you might float away on this cloud. “I’ve always been yours.”

“Gods. I love you,” he shudders between uneven breaths.

You will never tire of hearing those words, tasting them as they hinge off his tongue, and feeling them as they dally over the bond.

You clench around him, expelling a sighing groan from his mouth that you catch on your lips, determined to taste his ecstasy. His arm folds around your waist, forcing you to arch into him with his other hand at the back of your head. Astarion changes the angle of his thrusts but keeps the easy tempo. The blunt head of his cock waves over the sensitive pad of nerves inside you with every roll of his hips, and his groin grinds against your needy clit.

Astarion purposefully brings you close to your climax and then eases you away from it until you’re a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to take this withholding any longer. From his taut muscles and the way Astarion shakes, you know he cannot either. “Gods.”

“Open your eyes and come with me, my love.” Astarion increases the sensual pace rhythmically. The building pleasure pools in your abdomen, coiling tighter and tighter with every snap of his hips.

You open your eyes, blinking away the daze of passion, and cradle his cheek as he gazes at you affectionately. You’ve never seen his eyes so vividly crimson, as if his love for you itself was shining through the scarlet depths.

He knows the moment you begin to tread the fine edge of euphoria, gripping his girth and begging him to flood you with his pleasure. You shatter, spasms and white-hot pleasure ripping through you so intensely that the candles in the room go out and reignite with every contraction of your walls.

“F-fuck,” he moans loudly, a roll of purring thunder echoing in his chest. With one last pump, Astarion tremors, cock pulsing, and spilling into you. His hips stutter, pulsing deeply within you with every twitch of his cock.

He pushes the sweaty strands of hair from your face as you both struggle to catch your breath. You may never get used to his new speedy movements because, before you even realize you’re moving, he’s rolled you so that your limp body blankets his.

His fingers caress up and down the valley of your spine as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, heaving a sigh of pure happiness while you are once again captivated by the ring wreathing your finger.

Astarion kisses your palm, placing it on his chest, and plays with the ring on your finger. “Will you tell your friends?”

“Our friends,” you correct, even though many don’t fancy him. “Of course. I am not ashamed.”

Astarion nods with a lopsided grin. “Even Gale?”

“Especially Gale,” you giggle.

“I simply must be there when you do,” he snickers. “The look on his face is sure to be exquisite.”

“I am positive he will have choice words for me,” you laugh.

Astarion bristles, “He best watch his words when I am near. I will not tolerate him speaking down to you.”

“Easy, Ascendant,” you tut, clicking your tongue at him. “I am capable of dealing with Gale and his words. I am not a maiden in need of saving.”

Astarion relaxes, chuckling, “A maiden you most certainly are not. I am going to have to field noise complaints.”

You pat his chest, smirking, “All in a day’s work, husband. Our neighbours are going to hate us.”

“We will simply purchase all the houses in the neighbourhood if they become too bothersome,” Astarion chimes, jostling you. “Think of all the places I could make you scream for me.”

You both break into laughter together, still immersed in the intoxication of each other’s blood.

But your bliss doesn’t last long as reality grips its claws into your rapture and bleeds it dry.

You cannot possibly continue to keep what you know for him. How can you expect your love to thrive where secrets sleep? He has to know he can trust you to be honest with him, even when that honesty frightens you. You would want him to tell you if the roles were reversed.

Guilt and fear tangle together and ball in your throat. Astarion jolts at the sudden change in your mood as it resonates over the union, sinking into him as if it were his own. His brows furrow and his eyes dart around aimlessly as he tries to understand the trouble he feels.

“What is wrong, little love?” He coos, taking your hand in his. You can feel his anxiety and the quickened pace of his heart in his palm. “You are frightened. You needn’t be afraid. I am getting better at controlling it. You can tell me anything.”

You steel yourself against the panic. His. Yours. Your combined dread.

You swallow and force the words out of your mouth. “I know what ails you.”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. Your support gives me the motivation to keep this fic going, and I appreciate each of you!

As always, please enjoy.

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

-We finally got Astarion to say he loves her, multiple times, and a lot more than that. ❤️💍

How is he going to react when she finally comes clean? 🫣

[muikyow]

again

, another anon. im sorry if u don’t accept requests, but can I request muichiro in the afterlife, having to choose whether to follow his brother and his parents or y/n? could you do both options and the thoughts he would have when he chose that option? of course the pros and cons of that option as well.

Muichiro reuniting with the Reader in life-after-death

A/N: It took me a while to understand, I hope I didn't take too long

Warnings: English errors, Slight distress??? (Idk, lol), Gn Reader???

- He will probably be amazed by your presence... his face shows confusion and surprise

- At the first moment he starts crying saying it was his fault you were there, he cried fat tears and often sobbed while losing forgiveness

- He will hold your hand and squeeze it..he didn't want to condemn you to death too

- Muichiro looked at Yuichiro .. he has to decide between you...

Okay; if Muichiro chose his family

- Muichiro simply keeps his head down and walks away from you... saying that his family was waiting for you too

- He didn't want to walk away from you, but he had no choice...

- ....When Muichiro's reincarnation meets yours...Muichiro's reincarnation is confused, why does he feel this pain in his chest? Why does he feel pity, sadness when he looks at you if he doesn't even know you?

....Okay; if Muichiro chose you -...He seems sad to leave his family, but he can't let you go alone, he wants to be with you...

-...He hugged you and said that in the next life he will protect you better...

-...Tokito chose to just move forward with you, he preferred not to look back, but he cried at having to leave his family

[styusha-10]

"I would have given everything to be with you. For some endless minutes I considered whether I should rush after you, into that furious, roaring abyss, in the hope of reuniting with you in the afterlife, but in the end I abandoned the idea. I have always compared you to a falcon in my mind, for your keen gaze and the bird-like tilt of your head when you are interested, for your almost predatory habits when it comes to chasing criminals, and in those minutes I prayed that you would be one, that you would rise from the bottom of the Reichenbach Falls and soar over the abyss that buried your sworn enemy.

Somewhere in the depths of my soul still glimmered the hope that you were alive; that I, not being your most gifted student, had missed something in my reasoning, and that you would meet me with open arms and a sincere smile at the doorsteps of our hotel.

I waited there for two days.

Finally, when the owner began to look at me with pity bordering on fear for my mental health, I packed my things, paid for both of our rooms and went back to England.

Three years have passed, Holmes, and I still dream of mountains. On other nights, when a merciful Providence grants me peace, I simply fly — over the jungles of India and the pastoral plains of England, the wild Scottish moors and the green hills of France. But in the end I almost always find myself in the Swiss foothills of the Alps. The cold wind beats on my chest, and I feel an unprecedented freedom, and I want to dance endlessly with the winds, but my unusually sharp eyesight always unerringly finds that same ill-fated waterfall in which I once buried you, my dear friend. I descend and descend until I am directly above the crevasse. Then, folding my wings, I throw myself down like a stone — and always wake up before I have time to reach the bottom.

Every morning the rarefied air and the pure smell of the mountains freeze in my lungs, which cannot be confused with anything, and my hair is tousled more than usual, as if by gusts of a furious and biting wind. And every morning I almost believe that I have rescued you from that distant mountain country, that my prayers were answered, that now the door of my bedroom will open, and a familiar silhouette will appear on the threshold...

But every day I leave the house, and nothing changes, and I force myself to forget — until the next night..."

…Dr. Watson will put the letter aside, ashamed of his own sentimentality, but will not crumple it up and throw it in the wastepaper basket, and will simply stuff it into the far drawer of the table, and will soon completely forget about it, being by nature a person not prone to excessive fantasies. He will firmly decide to move somewhere where everything will not be such a painful reminder of his dear friend.

And naturally, he will not notice how the next morning this letter will migrate to a stack of papers in a filing cabinet along with a falcon feather that appeared out of nowhere. And at the very bottom of the paper will be a black three-fingered trace — like a signature, like a promise.

It was heavily inspired by a song called Korolevna (it means Princess) by Melnitsa. And though I think it can't be translated without inevitable loss of it's beauty, I found a video for you with English subtitles (turn it on) and please watch it, it is beautiful and basically has it's own fandom.

English is not my first language, so any corrections are more than welcome! I hastily translated it from my mother tongue, because it has been sitting in my notes since November, and though it is misty and autumny, I wanted to finally set it free.