#it was done i just hadn't uploaded it yet

[beeh0n3y]

CHAPTER THREE Y’ALL

[stxrvel]

coincidence! (2)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, we're still on the safe zone, angst if you squint, just silly writing! a/n. hi guys! finally second chapter is out! im blown away with your response!! thank u so much from the bottom of my heart! i loooooved reading your comments <33 pls remember updates are weekly or biweekly! and if you want to be tagged pls say so in the comments! see you next week ;)

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

“This is unbelievable! We're going to be rich!!!” 

“What makes you think my sister is going to give you any of that money?” 

“I created that Instagram account that was tagged in Kim Taehyung's damn story, I deserve a raise!” 

“What makes you drones think my daughter is going to give you any of that money?”

“None of you are going to get anything out of that act of feigned innocence. Honey, are you all right?”

It seemed like a light had gone on in the room, four pairs of eyes landing on your still pale, surprised face. The night had been heavy after Yuna's call and you'd had so little sleep that you didn't know how you were functioning at the moment. Maybe that was the thing: you weren't functioning at all.

When you woke up, you thought it had all been a bad dream and that definitely the first exposure you'd had to the guys in years hadn't been because Taehyung came across your books at a convention you decided not to go to and uploaded them to his Instagram account with over eighty million followers. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too crazy. 

Maybe not as crazy as waking up to your parents banging on your bedroom door saying that over a hundred thousand orders had been placed overnight and they didn't have enough book production for that much demand. 

Be that as it may, Yuna and your mother took care of the communications on the account. You went from having twenty followers (including your family and friends —your father had created an account exclusively for that and only followed you—), to almost sixty thousand in at least twelve hours. The posts you had worked so hard to create and put together were finally getting the attention they deserved, but it had all happened so fast and suddenly that it was too strong to process calmly. 

Weighing which was stronger, whether Taehyung's acknowledgment of your existence after so many years of zero contact or that your book sales shot up so immeasurably that they couldn't even keep up with demand, even if a month went by, didn't make things any easier. 

“She's obviously still in shock,” Yuna replied to your mother at your lack of response from the living room, right across the dining room where you had been sitting since you had come down from your room. Your breakfast was still untouched on the table, but that seemed to be the least important thing in the room with all the more important news. 

“Have the printers answered yet?” your brother's voice through the speaker of your father's phone rang as you blinked, reality settling too slowly on your shoulders. You didn't even want to think about what it meant that Taehyung had done that. Maybe it was simply an altruistic act, wasn't it? Maybe he felt guilt and wanted to ameliorate it somehow. What better way than to do an act of charity?

“I'm on it,�� your father was sitting across from you in the dining room, his laptop on the glass of the table as he moved his hands over the keyboard and stared through his glasses at the full tip of his nose. From the way his eyes narrowed, your mother snorted. 

“Why don't you get those glasses adjusted if you know you don't see well up close, let alone on electronic devices?” the woman reached over, dragging your father's glasses until they were almost glued to his eyebrows. Your father barely gave her a goofy grin as your mother started shaking her hands. “You better move. I'll do it. You write too slow; you're getting on our son's nerves.” 

“Nah, I'm fine. I don't know if y/n is tho.” 

Silence returned and you growled internally. Well, that was enough conjecture and assumptions without any information to substantiate them, it was time to get down to business. 

 “Do you think we should take over this business now?” Yuna completely ignored your stretch and you sent her a confused look. 

Your brother exclaimed from the phone in agreement. “I call dibs on the treasury!” 

“There's no way you can keep the accounts right! You're studying law.” 

“Seojun is good at numbers, Yuna.” 

 “Ha, with all due respect Mrs. I/n, he must only be good at counting sheep.”

 “Hey,” you tried to get attention, getting up from the chair. 

 “y/n, don't talk, you're still in shock. Can you believe he once called me from the supermarket to ask if he got his change right? He didn't even move from the checkout counter. There were people booing him.” 

 “Ow, my poor baby.” 

 “I told you not to say that to anyone!” 

 “I can't keep quiet if they're speaking lies about you!” 

 “This wasn't lies! This is about my pride!” 

 “Nonsense. I'll handle the treasury. I double majored in finance and international relations for a reason.” 

 “You can't run anything without starting bossing everyone around!” 

 “It's not my fault you're a good-for-nothing!” 

 God. It was going to be a long day. 

- 

Sorting out the whole printing issue and the number of orders was difficult, but with a couple of stories, interactions with new followers and express delivery of the few copies you'd already had at home for months, the waters calmed down a bit. Now, in the stifling silence of your room, you wanted to run. 

 “Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night?” 

 “Maybe.” 

Yuna watched you from the bed while all you could do was stare as notifications continued to pop up on your Instagram account and your mail because the requests simply wouldn't stop, even though you had made a thousand clarifications to all the new followers. You were trying to focus on the bright side of things, regardless of whatever reasons there may have been for everything to have happened that way, but with your friend's incessant gaze lying on your bed it made it a little difficult. You knew she wanted to pierce your skull from curiosity, but you wouldn't know how you would answer her questions. 

 “Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?” 

 The tension had become a little more latent during the last few minutes, when Yuna saw a specific notification on the account. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin had followed you. To describe your look of shock might be an understatement, and all you did for the next half hour was run across the room and throughout the house vociferating that you were living a nightmare. 

 Yuna has known all along that you had never been a fan of the siamese or their clan of friends, but she never knew why exactly. You had to tell her that you weren't interested in fashion, that you didn't like the kind of music Jungkook made, that hip-hop was never your thing, that you weren't interested in dilfs and you weren't interested in dance either. You had to tell her that all the things you once did with them didn't matter to you because it was painful, even if it was hard to accept.

 You couldn't remember the times you would go shopping at the small mall in town to buy the trending clothes to put together different outfits with Taehyung and Jimin, then go try them all on at your house and invite the others and even your parents to do an impromptu runway show. You couldn't remember how the genre of music that Jungkook and you listened to all the time on his iPod and your MP3 player was the same one that his entire music career focuses on. You couldn't remember the nights when Yoongi would share his writings with you and you would help him compose a song or two on the piano when he felt brave enough. Or the times when you would accompany Hoseok to his workouts and then watch him create dance routines to his favorite songs while Jungkook sang in the background. You also didn't want to remember the times when Namjoon and Seokjin would sponsor their trips and give everyone gifts without expecting anything in return. 

You couldn't remember those things. It was too much to bear for such a weak heart. 

“What do you want to know?” you sighed, your body sliding on the chair as the notifications grew. 

“How did all this happen?” 

“Why do you think I have an answer for that?” 

Yuna clicked her tongue, sitting on the bed with the cell phone still in her hands, still staring at the notification that snapped her out of her sanity. 

“It's just… this is all unbelievable, magnificent and unreal. But how come you're not so excited about what happened?” Yuna slid across the sheets, to be right in front of you, but you refused to look away from the computer. Every time you thought you had overcome and grown around everything that happened so many years ago, something would pop up to remind you that you still had a long way to go. Maybe the nostalgia was strong, but so was the anger. “Regardless of how things turned out, because I know you're not as big a fan as me, this opens a million doors for you and I don't know why you're not celebrating it like we are.” 

 “It's…complicated.” 

 “I don't think so. Tell me.” 

Yuna was unstoppable when she wanted to get answers out, but besides the obvious, of course there was something else that bothered you and kept you from enjoying this boom so much. 

 “It's just that all of this doesn't feel like it was a product of my effort,” you began, letting your gaze wander over the desk. The copies of your books you kept for yourself, the first ones you'd ever printed several years ago, lay there, as tattered as your failed accomplishment. “It doesn't feel like an achievement that my work had exploded thanks to a celebrity whose fans would buy even the toilet paper he uses. A lot of those people won't even read the book. They will just buy it and take a picture of it to say that they have the same book that the great Kim Taehyung read. Many of those books will never have a life, they will just be dust collectors and be reminders that all this did not happen because of my effort.” 

“What the fuck are you blabbering about? Of course it's the fruit of your effort! Of course you deserve it!” Yuna got up from the bed and moved the chair around the back to leave you in front of her disgruntled and almost offended face. You could see the words drawn in her face. “You worked so many years to pull this off and after so many bumps you finally can! You deserve to have what you wanted so badly. This recognition will last just the same because many other people will read them and love them and they may not be many, but you will form a solid foundation as time goes on with people who will be truly unconditional and supportive and that will grow over time. Don't look at this so negatively, maybe you skipped a couple of steps, but you had every right to. It was what you deserved after all the effort and dedication you put into this project for so many years.” 

 Yuna didn't hesitate for a second. Her very serious expression sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell from her furrowed brow that she really was angry at your perception. Perhaps she was right, but without knowing the full background of this specific situation, you were only left to shake your head in assent and send her a grateful smile. 

“I guess you're right,” you lifted a shoulder, turning your gaze back to your mail notifications.

“Of course I am!” the smile returned to her face and it didn't take long for her to look back down at her phone with sparkling eyes. “Now that we got the emotional charge out of the way, would you mind telling me how you know Taehyung?” 

Your breathing stopped for a second and you cursed yourself because it sounded too loud as you almost choked on your own saliva. 

“Oh?” 

Play fucking dumb. 

“What, did you think I wasn't going to notice? He wrote it crystal clear.” 

Yuna wasn't even looking at you, too focused on running her finger over the row of notifications. Her nonchalant demeanor only caused you to panic more. It was as if she had caught you red-handed. 

One of the best writers I've ever met in my life, damn you Kim Taehyung. 

“Ah… I didn't… I didn't really know him so let's just say…”

“He couldn't have said that for nothing, don't you think? No celebrity would do that unless it was a person they hold in deep regard.” 

Yuna had just caught you totally off guard. Maybe you should've focused a lot more on what Taehyung had written before you blocked his user from your personal account and threw the phone in the bottom of your drawer the night before and tried hard not to think about the rest for the rest of the night and all that day. 

“It's just that… uhm… we studied at the same school. But for a short time actually. I don't even remember it well actually, ha, ha.” 

Your laugh came out too constrained under your friend's narrow-eyed stare. You knew you'd have a hard time convincing her because you were a lousy liar. 

“You know, it always struck me as odd that you weren't a fan. Taehyung and Jimin are like the two extremes of your ideal type.” 

“Whaaaat?”

“And Jungkook's music is literally the kind of music you listen to, you just don't listen to his. All the other artists in the same genre you do listen to.”

“That has nothing to do with…” 

“And even your parents don't claim to know Kim Seokjin when your mother was literally a nurse. She probably worked with him.” 

“What does that have to do…?”  

“And your brother is a hip-hop fan. How come he doesn't listen to Agust D? He's the best rapper of the last few decades and he's been trending for a long time.” 

“…” 

At what fucking moment? 

“And all of them, plus Hobi and Namjoon, they all went to the same school. They're all friends. And you say you went to school with Taehyung?” 

“Ahm… well, yes, but it's not like I would have met the others.” 

Yuna looked at you, really looked you straight in the eyes as if that way she could tell what it was you were hiding or as if that solved all her guesses. It was impossible for her not to figure it out if she had already tied up all the damn loose ends. 

Since the boys had left one by one, clearly your family was the first to realize how much their departures had affected you. In the beginning there was communication and all, but when Jungkook was the last to leave you lost any kind of link with them completely. You never knew exactly what happened because no matter how hard you tried to contact them you couldn't, not even your parents could talk to the boys' parents. Perhaps they had simply grown up, matured, completely forgetting about their ordinary life in that town. 

They seemed to have disappeared from the planet. 

Until your family moved to the capital. Jungkook was just starting out as an idol, but he had an amazing debut. He had captivated the entire audience and was too successful almost from the second one. It was a torment to watch them grow professionally little by little because, although you were happy for their achievements and all, you couldn't forget that they had basically abandoned you. And your parents and Seojun had noticed. They had noticed how much seeing them all over the place was bumming you out, so unreachable when at one point they were all in your living room eating your mother's delicious kimchi and listening to your father's anecdotes. Everyone was affected by their departures, but clearly no one as much as you. 

That's why, of course, your parents and brother had made a silent vow to keep all media about the boys away from you, because they didn't even talk about it by accident in the house, at least not when you were present. 

“It must be a huge coincidence…” Yuna continued and only at that moment did you realize how much you got into your head. Your vision slightly blurred. “I shouldn't accuse you of anything for things like that, should I? What nonsense.” 

You were probably as white as a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, it would be too weird… ha, ha.” 

God, you had to stop letting out those giggles when you were nervous. 

“Anyway, should we order fried chicken for dinner?” 

“I think I heard mom say she was going to make japchae.” 

“Ohhhhhh, Mrs. l/n's japchae is delicious!” 

You let out a laugh watching your friend spring up from the bed and head for the door. She stopped halfway out and pointed her index finger at you. 

“Don't tell my mom I said that.” 

You made a gesture to zipper your mouth shut and Yuna finally left. 

The previous conversation had been so tense that you already felt tired and ready to sleep at seven o'clock at night. Really the whole day had been so heavy for everyone that you didn't know how the lights in the house were still on. For now, you couldn't do anything else, even if orders continued to come in, now everything depended on the printer and how fast the books would come out, so you would have to wait. 

Maybe you should rest. You had asked your boss for the day off, but tomorrow you would have to continue working hard. Regardless of the incredible growth you'd had, you couldn't let your work go to waste. 

Tomorrow would be a new day. A quieter one, preferably. 

-

a/n: i'll try to have ready part 3 for next week! see you on june 13 at 11:59 pm - GMT5 time!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592

[j-jinxee]

[ ⟡​ ] — NEEDY 4 U,,

NSFW under the cut! ⊹ Heeseung x Reader

✦ [warnings – masturbation, cumming, swearing, oral (m receiving), fake fantasies]

─────

"mm-fuck baby, ah! You're too good to me." Heeseung praised your mouth working up and down his cock, getting him closer and closer to his high. He glanced down at you through his tired eyes, being met with the sight of you taking his length down your throat so well.

Looking away before it became too much for him, fuck he was close, so ready to shoot his cum down your throat and make you swallow. His hands went down to gently grip your hair, gathering it to make a half ass pony tail as he used the leverage to push your head down further.

"mm-mmm~ fuck!" Heeseungs abs started to tense, his whole body feeling like it was on fire, all due to your pretty little warm mouth. He felt the way your tongue worked him perfectly, running along the veins on his shaft, teasing his tip with your lips, you knew exactly how to get him worked up. His balls tightened as he felt himself tip off the edge.

"mm-ah! fuckfuckfuck-" his head span as he began to see stars. Thick ropes of hot, white cum were shot down your throat, only satisfying Seung more when you swallowed and licked up every last drop. His chest rose and fell, attempting to catch his breath that was taken by that intense orgasm. "ahhhhh fuck baby."

His eyes finally opened.

Heeseung's vision was cloudy, head spinning from his eyes being screwed shut for so long. Yet again, being met with a disappointing, shameful sight.

His hand and stomach covered in semen, sweat dripping from his forehead, and his phone laying next to him, your contact open.

Fuck, he did it again. All wrapped up in his own thoughts and fantasies of you, ending with him being a tired, needy mess. You'd texted him a few hours ago when he was busy, just asking how he was and all that. He hadn't responded yet, coming home and immediately relieving himself to the thought of you.

"I'm great thanks, what're you up to tn?"

─────

THIS WAS SHORT I KNOW I just wanted to upload SOMETHING for enhypen hehe. My first Jake onehsot is nearly done hehe and I'm planning my Sunoo series so :D stay tuned hehe merci 🫶🏻

[joonipertree]

Pro-racer!Jiro x insecure!reader

drabble that started it all

the smut that isn't done yet but will be uploaded at some point

Thank u everyone who asked for a part 2, it motivated me a lot i hope u like this as much as i do!

When you heard the door of your apartment open, your body stiffened. It hadn't been that long since Mikey left, only 5 pm and he said he'd be back by ten so it confused you. But you didn't get up from under your blanket, didn't run out and hug him in greeting. You stayed silent and still, wondering maybe it was your imagination and then morbidly thinking an intruder got in. You wouldn't want an intruder to come in but Mikey just wasn't someone you wanted to see in that moment.

An exasperated sigh left Mikey’s lips but he was stubborn if anything so your body went deeper into the mattress from his body weight. He peppered you with kisses like he always did and your body relaxed under the onslaught of affection. Your head cleared for the first time in the last hour and every second you were in his presence was enough to assure you of his love. But the image of the comments flashed in your head, so easily. People saying that he and the model looked good together, that they would make a pretty couple, that it made sense. And as much as you wanted to deny it, you knew that there was a reason people were saying it. Of course there was, you had eyes. And the question that was begging to get out of you sat on your tongue like a weight. 

And with some difficulty, you unstuck your tongue from the roof of your mouth and spoke with every fiber of your body protesting against it. 

“Why are you dating me?”

The silence that followed was deafening and felt like a burial for your emotions. You didn’t know what you wanted him to say, second guessing your worries and your thoughts. Eating your words would have been easier, shutting up would probably keep the remnants of your relationship together. Of course, your relationship didn’t feel like it was on its last leg but love was blind wasn’t it? People hid secrets easily enough. And the question in your head wasn’t necessarily if he loved you but couldn’t he love someone better?

“Your laugh gets squeaky when you giggle for too long.”

A pause. You still couldn’t look at him. 

“The way you talk about your favourite characters is filled with so much passion and nuance, I know for a fact that that doesn’t just apply to them. You do a cute thing where you break eye contact with me when you stare at me for too long, we’ve been together for four years. You annoy me every day when I don’t pay attention to you and then take your revenge by eating my food.”

Your eyes were blurry from the unshed tears that threatened to break free and all Mikey could do was kiss your cheek as he continued his list. 

“Your hands are very small in mine and you give me extra meat on my plate when you think I’m not looking and you pat babu on his headlights like he’s precious to you. You complain about having to take care of a big baby like me but do it anyway. And you cackle every time you put my hair in pigtails like it's the most evil plan. We spent fifteen minutes the other day doing basic math when tryna bake something and ended up getting flour everywhere. What a silly question for you to ask, honey.” 

You sniffled and let him turn your head so you could see the crinkling of the corner of Mikey’s eyes and the gentle smile he reserved for only you. And as much as you wanted to let it go then and there, your fist still punched his shoulder, albeit with no strength in it. 

“Then why was your face so close to that model, you jackass?” Another fist landed on his chest but he didn’t budge at all, cradling your face that didn’t wanna venture too far away from his hand. “I get that she’s pretty but you can’t just do that to me!! Am I not enough? Do you think it’s fine cuz it's a photoshoot? Cuz no! I don’t like it at all!!! You fucker! You piece of shit!”

Mikey sighed, closing his eyes for a second before saying, “it’s not what it looks like.”

The scripted sounding line made you see red as your foot kicked him almost reflexively in the stomach. He fell back onto the bed, legs and arms spread as he groaned at the impact. You took the chance to get up and begin walking out of the room. 

“I know it looks bad but genuinely! Not what you think it is!” 

The pillow you threw at him shut him up real quick and he was left laying there in a disgruntled ball. The door slammed shut behind you as you stomped your way into the guest bedroom, closing with less intensity as your anger fizzled out as soon as you went inside. You sat down on the bed, the photo burned into your retina and every single comment going through your head like you’re scrolling through your phone at that exact moment. 

After half an hour, the door to the room opened and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting to lock it. This didn’t change the position you were in, a small ball of pity on one corner of the bed. There were two thumps on the side table next to you and after some shuffling, the door opened and closed. You waited five minutes before peeking from your blanket. A glass of water sat on the table along with your phone, precariously placed in your direction. You looked around and saw the room being empty before you chugged the water down. 

Your phone pinged with a notification from Mikey’s instagram. He posted something while the two of you were in an active fight? That bitch-

You picked up your phone, stared at your lockscreen of Mikey and you with your cheeks pressed together and opened his page despite yourself. It was a video with the caption ‘thanks for sending this @luvrboisanzu’. The video played on its own, a few seconds before the camera had captured the photo that had caused this whole ordeal. The model was seen hovering behind him, leaning down with her hand stretching out towards his face. There was no hesitance in Mikey’s hand shooting up and grabbing her wrist, glaring at her before glaring at the director telling him to ‘let her’.

“It’s just for the camera! People will love it!” The old man persisted before Mikey stood up from his seat. 

“I’m taken and I’m bored. We must have enough by now, right?” Mikey’s hands were tucked into the pockets of his dress pants, eyes sharp and steady. 

“Oh come on, a few more won’t hurt right? Think of your fans---” The director pushed on and the air around Mikey changed immediately. It grew more stifling, his eyes narrowing at the man. 

Silence, no one knew what to say before Ken-chin brought over Mikey's jacket. Mikey began leaving, ignoring the stammering staff members that were asking him to stay. 

“Oof,” a sound came from behind the camera and you instantly recognized it as Haruchiyo, “dude bro really shouldn't have pushed it.” 

And the video ended.

You stared at the screen for a second, noticing the little red circle on his profile. You clicked it without thinking, the video that played took a second for you to process. 

Sanzu had posted it on his story and tagged @bikerboi_manjiro, Mikey had shared it on his story. The main focus was Mikey, his hair up in a ponytail while he played patty cake with someone that you instantly realised was you off camera. The memory was clear in your head, from a few months ago when you were on the sidelines watching haru fuck around with Mikey under the guise of a makeover. His nails were painted metallic silver, his nose was grazed with blush and he had graphic liner adorning his eyes. 

The main problem with filming was his lack of attention span and inability to sit still. So he'd often just move around or eat the snacks or bound over to you for your affection. In this instance, the two of you were bored and ended up just stuck in a long game of patty cake. 

Mikey, in the video, watched your hands fumble and grinned brightly before grabbing your hands in his. You remembered how flustered you had gotten from his stare, you two had been together for a long time but his gaze still felt too much to you at times. Mikey broke down laughing seeing you all blushy, eyes squeezing shut and leaning closer towards you. 

The story left your screen and you were left with a swirl of emotions which you could only describe as embarrassed, awed and grateful. As well as just a tiny bit pissed that he thinks that he could post himself being cute and you'd walk out the door back into his arms?? He was right, of course. But it still pissed you off.

So you dragged your ass out of the guest room and instantly noticed his napping form on the living room couch. Mikey's head was against the couch cushion, eyes closed and hair spread out like a halo. 

And without much warning, you plopped yourself on his lap. His eyes instantly shot open, instantly focused on you as you made yourself comfortable on your seat. Mikey's arms went around your waist, soothing your back with his large hand as you laid your head on your shoulder.

“Sorry for kicking you….and punching you….and doubting you.” You whispered.

Mikey snorted, “couldn't have asked for a better kick. And it's fine, I would've kicked myself too if I could. Sorry it came to this.” 

“I shouldn't have thought you would do anything with another person….you never gave me a reason to believe that.” You squeezed him against you as much as you could, letting him soak in your warmth.

“You're always so hard on yourself, you know that? Always think the worst of yourself. Which is very annoying when I look at you and I see the best person I could possibly be with. I really don't think you understand how lucky I am to be dating you.” Mikey whispered, placing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, letting you melt into him.

“I'm just me.” You whined, too focused on his lips on your skin than your words.

“And you are something that is so rare and precious that it's a miracle I found you. You think I can walk down the street or go into a photo shoot and find someone like you? I could spend lifetimes searching and not get close, yet here you are…in my lap.” Manjiro's kisses had turned into light nibbling , hand curling so that the back of his nails could graze your spine, causing you to shiver.

“You're a very silly little baby aren't you, honey? Having these silly thoughts. You don't need to stress your pretty head about it, no not at all.” Mikey spoke gently, voice soft and buttery. And you just whined into his shoulder, letting his words fog up your brain and close your eyes.

Mikey's long fingers made their way into your hair, scratching your scalp enough for your nerves to come alive and cause shivers run down your back. His nails reached the nape of your neck and a little whimper forced its way out of your throat. 

“Mh-hm.” Mikey hummed, rocking from side to side. Your head was stuck in a dream-like state, body melted against his own with barely any thoughts left. 

“Jiro.” You whined, feeling overwhelmed. Your boyfriend only chuckled, playing with the hem of your shorts, asking for permission. And oh, you wanted him so badly.

[cupids-chamber]

— " 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 " | Listen to this on loop for full experience.... ★. Content tags/warnings , 1.1k+ words, gender neutral reader, technically everyone x reader (including staff/not so much RSA), can be seen as both platonic and romantic, angst, mentions of food/eating less (reader no longer has an appetite), reader is tired, reader is having a really bad day, reminder: I haven't written in awhile.

Today was a difficult day, many days have challenged you in so many different ways, yet a keen feeling of gloominess had washed over you this particular morning. Your alarm rang blankly into the silent room, you let out a groan of displeasure as you sat up on your bed, staring blankly at the wall feeling a churn in your gut. The curtains were closed, a small ray of light shone through the empty space between your window and the fabric of the curtain; you took a moment to sit and stretch. 

Mentally you cursed yourself, reaching a hand to shut off your phone alarm. Perhaps it was a bad idea staying up late after all, yet how could you resist the urge to finish that new Twisted Wonderland fanfic you found on AO3 recently; The reader resonated deeply with you, and the author's writing was just what you needed. Your eyes stung, you felt like banging your head into your headboard just to stop it from ringing and aching, not to mention you could practically feel the weight of your eyebags.—had you known your body would behave in such a way, you'd have slept at least a bit earlier—Well that's what you're saying now at least, you knew you'd probably repeat the same mistake tonight if another storyline enraptured you just as much as the previous did. 

You began standing up, your whole body woozy from the lack of sleep, you found yourself stumbling over something you left on the floor. You recall how tired you were, too done with the day to be bothered to pick it back up. You walked right past it, 'today was going to end badly' you thought to yourself, since your morning had been a dead giveaway. 

You pocketed some random snack, as breakfast; Running a bit later as per usual. You'd lie to yourself, saying that you'd get up a bit earlier tomorrow but you knew for a fact that unless a miracle happened, you wouldn't. 

The rest of the day was but the same routine, you felt tired all throughout your morning classes, on edge. You would've fallen asleep but you tried to keep your eyes open, as your professor was going over some important project intel that you really didn't want to miss—though you were only half understanding what they were saying—their words felt like gibberish for your only half-functioning brain.

Lunch felt like a chore, despite it usually feeling like a break. You felt like something bad was definitely going to happen, which made you feel anxious; The churn in your gut made it difficult to eat, chew, or drink. Your lunches weren't all that gigantic, as you disliked the feeling of being bloated, yet you barely could find it in yourself to eat. You took a deep breath, you logged into tumblr, perhaps one of your favorite fanfic writers uploaded something new? Anything to distract this heavy mind of yours. 

You checked @kalims page first, they hadn't uploaded in a while—It's been a couple days since they've posted; you figured they'd be busy with school… You pondered on the following page for a while, checking @spadecentral‘s blog, they were far more active then most other blogs you’ve been following and their soft and sweet writings was perhaps just what you needed in this tim—They haven’t uploaded in a while as well? You looked at your screen, maybe everyone was just busy with their finals and/or finishing up midterms at this time. 

You hummed, scrolling frantically through your follows, you sighed softly, maybe today wasn't the day to read fluff, you started checking yandere blogs; ‘nothing like obsessive men to calm you down’ you thought as you clicked on @writingforatwistedworld‘s blog, you scrolled down.. 

‘Weird, nothing new..’, it was as if the whole world had conspired against you today, you took a sigh, perhaps @honey-milk-depresso had uploaded something new on her art blog, after all their wholesome tsundere ship art was just the perfect source of serotonin—And if you were just a bit lucky, perhaps she’s uploaded writing onto her main blog an—Oh.. She hasn’t uploaded either?..  

Your brows furrowed letting out a tired sigh, maybe you should just listen to some music. ‘How bad could this day possibly go?’—you consoled yourself with those words, as you tried finishing up at least a small portion of your meal. 

You forced yourself to clean up and change, crashing onto your bed afterwards. It always felt softer on these sorts of days. Like a welcoming warm embrace, that you didn't want to leave. You took a few moments to vent your stress onto one of your poor pillows, before getting nice and cozy with your warm blankets. 

You laid down on your bed, burying yourself in the blankets, as you grabbed your device from near you, turning the brightness to the lowest possible setting, perhaps you should finish your general tasks on Twst before you take a nap.. 

10 minutes passed and you let out a groan, where did the app go? You never heard of an app disappearing randomly; perhaps you miss-clicked and hid it by accident? A few minutes passed, and you still couldn't find the Twisted Wonderland app, you desperately opened up your computer.. Typing in panic, and yet the official website was gone as well—perhaps it’s just going through some weird update?—Maybe this was only happening to certain servers. You logged into tumblr once again, checking your mutuals profiles and.. some of them were gone? Most of the blogs had nothing from Twisted Wonderland left, the tumblr tags for Twst were completely empty. 

Two hours had only passed and your panic grew, it was odd. You scrolled through your mutual’s blogs for minutes on end hoping to find one post about the game which put a smile on your face on the daily... Yet none... You went on AO3 and even checked other websites which you'd only go to out of sheer desperation for content... Yet nothing...  

You took deep breaths, your breathing pacing as you scrolled till your fingers began to sting from pressure and stress.. Your back arched, as you stared at the screen with an intense expression, desperately tapping away…  finally you entered the app store hoping this was a weird dream or update, like those movies and manga’s and yet.. the app was gone. No mention of it.

You couldn’t even trace a single picture of the game down, not even on Pinterest where everything deleted was still sometimes somehow available. 

'Were you crying? You couldn't quite tell, you felt tired, perhaps this fictional world was just something you created as an escape, yet you didn't think you'd get this attached to some characters on a screen, and now that's it's all gone you feel... kind of.. empty.' 

‘Maybe it was all just a fragment of your imagination…’

| Masterlist | Kofi | Join Taglist

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[cellophaine]

Chapter X: APPROACH

Masterlist

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan

Warnings: Angst.

Author's Note: I'm not going to apologize for what I've done, but I will apologize for uploading this chapter 10 minutes late.

GIF Source: @/spookyrps

2019. New Rochelle.

There was no music in the elevator, you noticed. You were alone with your thoughts that echoed back and forth in the chamber of your mind. Sleep didn't come easy the night before, even with the help of the prescribed sleeping pills you hardly ever reached for. After all these years, being face-to-face with Art still managed to draw a reaction from you. One that didn't make much sense. You were a different person now, as he was. Things had happened, and you had changed. Knowing that you were in the same building as Art Donaldson, separated by mere floors, shouldn't make you toss and turn in your bed. You were such a fool; you scolded yourself. He probably slept fine next to his gorgeous wife, with their adorable child in the room next to theirs.

Your likeness on the glossy surface of the elevator door appeared well-kempt, but it wasn't a truthful reflection of how you felt on the inside. The little makeup you used did its job, concealing the dark circles and adding colours to your face. Right there along the seam of yourself was the fatigue, worming its way into the slight slouch in your posture, weighing down your body's effort in keeping it upright. Remembering how your mom used to strike at your upper back so you would sit up straight, you straightened up out of an innate reflex.

The elevator door opened to reveal the first floor. You headed for the hallway Jennifer had led you down, barely passing the peripheral of Art as he stood there in the lobby, talking to a man you didn't recognize. You kept your face away from his direction and quickened your pace, hoping he hadn't spotted you yet. You sighed as the almost empty hallway welcomed you in, save for a couple of people ahead of you chattering about the seat placements. But the relief didn't last long. A familiar voice that you'd tried to forget for years called your name. The marble floor echoed the voice's owner's intention of catching up to you, hurried and rushed as if you were to disappear at any moment. You turned around, stopping him in his tracks – only a few steps from where you were standing.

Art was wearing casual attire, a fitted white t-shirt and black pants, yet he still managed to make them look phenomenal. He looked like he was about to head to practice. You remembered it, all those mornings after spending the night together, watching him getting ready for the day.

For a long moment, neither of you talked, only drinking each other in with your sights. Art broke the tension first, seeming to reprimand himself for staring at you.

"You look great."

"You, too."

You reciprocated, albeit a little cold. There was no reason for you to lie and no excuse for the conversation to be longer than it already was.

"It's good to see you."

You sighed and decided to cut to the chase.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a challenger."

"No, I meant here, right now."

You pointed to the distance between you. His answer lingered on the tip of his tongue, undecided, but eventually rolled off and made itself audible to your ears.

"I … I want to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about."

You shook your head. Art took one step closer to you.

"I know that I'm not entitled to your time, but I've missed you."

The latter part ignited the anger in you. How could he say that so easily? You scoffed at his audacity; your own response came with a bite that aimed to hurt.

"I don't think your wife will appreciate what you've just said."

To your surprise, at the mention of the sore subject for the two of you, his resolve remained unchanged.

"Tashi has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with us."

"Not when she resents me."

For the first time in your tense exchange, you relented. You searched for Art's eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, of deception, but instead, you found defeat. Your resolve softened, and you felt the familiar pull of a memory from when you first met at the Stanford cafeteria thirteen years ago. Two lonely people meeting one another, and now, finding themselves in each other's paths again.

But it should end here.

"Your marriage problem isn't my responsibility to solve."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to. I just … want to talk about us."

You shrugged, keeping your tone nonchalant.

"There's no more us."

At that moment, a mix of voices from a group of people came out from the conference room area, chatting among themselves. The two of you involuntarily took a small step away from each other as if the guilt by distance association was enough to make anyone suspicious. Art's desperation was clear as day.

"Can we talk somewhere else?"

You couldn't say no, so you settled for the next best thing.

"I have to go."

"Can you at least think about it?"

Art closed the distance, reaching for your hand. You were pliant to his gentle touches, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that lapped at your conscience. A piece of paper was placed in your palm.

"Text me. I'll figure out something for us."

You said nothing to his promise and walked away; your skin felt hot from his touch. You headed straight for the conference room, and your hand slipped the note Art gave you into the pocket of your blazer.

Art's number had not been a resident in your contact for a very long time. You stared at the ten digits later that night in your room, and your fingers itched to do something about it. Burn it or throw it away; it didn't matter. You knew you should do either of those things, but in the end, you couldn't.

At about 12:40 AM, Art sent you the address to a local restaurant that was about a ten-minute drive from the hotel.

Tomorrow night. 7:30.

As the day drew closer to night, the knot in your stomach tightened even more in anticipation. You sat in the car in the restaurant's parking lot for a while despite being there early. When it was 7:38, knowing you couldn't delay it any longer, you straightened your simple outfit and walked into the restaurant. You were greeted by a bored hostess on a slow night; the place was almost empty, save for two other occupied spots. Art's table was in a more secluded area, where privacy was afforded by the enclosed booth with fake vines cascading down to the back of the leather seats in intricate weaves and big leaves. Art stood up when he saw you. The familiarity of the scene stirred a long-forgotten memory that happened seven years ago.

2012. Columbus, Ohio.

Your first book tour. After the reading and signing event, you were free to do whatever you wished, and that meant roaming the aisle of a grocery store, browsing for juice, painkillers and some chocolate. Your eyes pored over the nutritional value, or lack thereof, of a pack of chips when you felt a pair of eyes on you. That, on top of the fact that they wandered into your peripheral and hadn't made the slightest move. You did a double-take when you saw Patrick Zweig standing within arm's reach with a self-assuring smirk on his face.

"Hey. It's you."

"It's… you."

You echoed his recognition, but on the contrary to his amusement, yours was the faintest touch of dread.

"It's been a while."

"It has been. How are you?"

You turned to face him fully. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

"I'm … great! You?"

"I'm good. What are you doing here?"

Patrick looked around the aisle as if the answer was obvious.

"In this grocery store? I'm getting groceries."

You looked at the basket in his other hand. It was filled with chips, soda and some bananas.

"Right. No, I mean, in the city."

"I'm here for a challenger. Well, was."

"What happened?"

"I got eliminated."

He dipped his head and averted his eyes from yours, seeming embarrassed by the admission of the fact.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's alright. At least I'm $300 richer now."

Patrick gestured to you.

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a book tour."

"Ahh. Sounds like you're doing very well for yourself."

"Thank you."

You felt sheepish at his compliment. The two of you fell into a lull of silence, your eyes intertwined in a languid game of cat and mouse. Patrick looked like he wanted to tell you something, but you had nothing to say to him. So you broke the silence first.

"Well, uh, it's very nice to see you again. I should go."

He stepped forward, trying to capture your attention in the way his body language created an invisible enclosure that temporarily held you in.

"Wait. Can we go somewhere else to talk? I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Do we?"

You levelled him with an incredulous look. But he met you with earnestness.

"Yes, we do."

"I don't think so."

"They got married last month."

It took you a brief moment to understand. Still, his decision to break the news to you in an abrupt manner took you by surprise. Your heart seemed to drop into a bottomless pit, and you could feel the frantic beat of it thrumming along every inch of your skin. You quickly fixed your frown into a forced smile.

"Well, that's great to hear. I'm happy for them."

Patrick gave you a look that said your effort was all in vain.

"You don't mean that."

"We all have to move on at some point. Unlike you."

The venomous bite of your words didn't go unnoticed by the dark-haired man before you.

"If you knew what I know, then you would be just like me."

You scoffed, crossing your arms.

"Please, we're not the same. Stop being cryptic and just say what you want to say."

He tilted his head at you, an idea dancing in his blue eyes.

"How about this? I'll tell you over dinner. We can use some catching up."

Your lack of a response made him feel like he needed to apply a little pressure.

"You'll want to know what happened. Trust me."

You rolled your eyes. You couldn't believe you were seriously considering his offer. You exhaled deeply and decided then that spending some time with your ex's wife's ex-boyfriend was better than a night alone in the hotel room.

"Where and what time?"

His smirk deepened, and you wanted to wipe that off of his face.

"There's an Applebee's nearby. How about we meet up there … around 7?"

"Fine."

That was how you ended up here, sitting across from Patrick Zweig, sipping on a Rum and Coke while waiting for your food. Whatever he wanted to say to you might pair better with the taste of alcohol. You hadn't even bothered to change out of the sundress you wore just hours before when you ran into him.

"How's it going for you career-wise?"

Patrick took a sip of his drink to delay answering your question.

"Oh, you know, it's … good. I'm making a name for myself."

You recalled his grocery haul, the pair of shorts that resembled pyjama pants, and the state of his car when you arrived around the same time as he did. The interior was messy, with rolled-up socks and clothes draping all over the back seat, trash and parking tickets in the front. Doubt swelled in your head.

"Are you? I have a feeling that you wouldn't be sleeping in your car if that was the case."

A playful smile appeared on his lips.

"Ouch. The hostel I was staying in had bed bugs, so my car was the next best option. I'll go to a motel after this, though."

You hummed, thinking back about what Art had told you about Patrick.

"Isn't your family rich?"

"They are. Not me."

His long middle finger traced the rim of his drink in a pensive mood.

"Why don't you ask them for help?"

"I don't want to. Let's just say we always fail to come to an agreement when it comes to the choices that I've made."

Your acknowledgement came in the form of slow nods of your head. You understood him for not wanting to depend on your family for anything. It would only give them one more reason to call you a disappointment for daring to seek their help.

The waiter brought out your food, and your conversation was pulled into a lull of quietude as you ate your food. You dabbed the corner of your mouth for a drop of the creamy pasta sauce, while Patrick munched on three pieces of fries. You picked up what was left off moments ago.

"You're still privileged in a way, you know? You could give up and crawl back to your family's mansion. I'm sure they'll welcome you back with open arms."

"I could. But there's no fun in that. Besides, I prefer being a disappointment anyway."

You shared a small chuckle. Under the low light of the restaurant, you allowed yourself to take him in fully. Curly dark hair, contrasted with the soft edges of his face. The light stubble along his jaw added a rugged charm to his laid-back attitude. You couldn't help but compare him to Art. Patrick's confidence was loud, veering on cocky. Art's was quiet, but full of surprises when the moment called for it.

The heady allure of Patrick and his association with Art had started to draw up dangerous ideas in your mind. You inhaled sharply, your fingers rubbed your temple in small circles in an attempt to bring yourself back to the conversation. The one you needed to have the moment you settled in the booth of Applebee's.

"So … they got married."

"Yeah. Pretty recently. Didn't even get an invite."

A sardonic huff of air escaped your lips.

"Join the club. I found out about their engagement last year, but I didn't think …"

You trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. But the silence did it for you. Patrick nodded.

"Art moves fast. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. And no one can tell him otherwise."

"I know it all too well."

"Little fucker."

You took a sip of your second Rum and Coke. A deep sigh escaped your lungs.

"I get it, though. She's beautiful, she's passionate about tennis. She can help him in ways that I can't."

At that, Patrick stayed quiet. His eyes took you in, all of your honesty and insecurity displayed in a glass case in front of him. You felt the briefest brush of vulnerability on your spine and shivered, but you ignored it. Despite the lack of dialogue and contact during the short period Patrick visited Stanford, your shared history ran deeper than the surface-level interaction that you had.

Patrick set down his burger and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His fingers created a rhythm on the wooden table, but then, the dull melody was cut short.

"Art is devoted to Tashi, but she's not."

"What do you mean?"

You prompted him to continue.

"Tennis is not everything to Art. But to Tashi, it is."

"I figured as much. It's not new news."

An inkling that Patrick was deliberately withholding information from you came to your mind. You sat up straighter, setting your fork down.

"Spill, Patrick."

He relented after a moment.

"I was in Atlanta last year. A couple of months after they got engaged."

You looked at him, unsure where he was going.

"Both of them were there for the Atlanta Open. I … saw Tashi in the hotel they were staying that night, and we … slept together."

You searched for a hint of deception in his face, only to come up with none. His face remained unreadable, betraying nothing, leaving only sincerity despite the irony of the situation. Your mouth opened, and closed, as you were at a loss for words. Patrick shrugged as if what he had just confessed was no more than a harmless, made-up tale.

"She wants an obedient little dog to carry out her fantasy of being a great tennis player. And Art is more than eager to do that for her."

He continued, seeming oblivious to your lack of response.

"She didn't seem happy, being engaged to Art. And if I can be honest, I think Tashi only likes Art because he's loyal to her to a fault, and he'll do anything to please her. I don't think she even loves him."

That somehow took you out of your bewildered state.

"Are you even listening to yourself? He was your best friend."

"My best friend? Who sabotaged my relationship, stole my girlfriend and basically abandoned me for her?"

Your rebuttal shot forward like a bullet out of its chamber.

"So you slept with her? To revenge? Even though she was engaged to Art? You're no better than him, Patrick. Two wrongs don't make one right."

You shook your head and couldn't help the thought that rolled off of your lips.

"You tennis players are such fucking assholes."

Patrick only nodded in agreement and didn't say anything. You sighed, asking the question you'd wanted to know.

"Does Art know?"

"I don't think so."

You shook your head, feeling a wave of fatigue taking over.

"I've had enough of you people. Just leave me alone."

He held his hands up in defence.

"All I'm saying is, you still have a chance if you want it."

You gave a rueful smile.

"Am I an idiot for wanting to believe you?"

He took his time, roaming over you with a pensive gaze. You felt exposed under it, after the confession you had never dared to verbalize out loud. Perhaps it was both of your positions in this game of tennis, the back and forth that inexplicably wove the four of you together in these intricate patterns, so tightly entangled with one another, that made you feel like Patrick would recognize. There was only understanding, and no judgement. The irony was that. Tennis was a simple game when you stripped it down to its barest principles, but the interconnection between everyone was anything but simple.

"No, you're not. You must really love him."

You looked down at your empty glass, unable to meet his eyes.

"I hate that I still feel this way about him."

Even though both of you were hurt by Art, you couldn't help the question that came afterward.

"Do you miss him?"

Patrick was his best friend, and Art was his. They had a life-long history between them that you weren't privy to. Your pain and his were different in kind, but you could understand all the same.

"I do."

The rest of the meal was cast in a sombre hue, with both of you mulling over a mutual understanding and the similarities you shared. Neither of you was the winner, but that didn't matter now.

/

"You didn't have to pay for my meal as well."

He said as you walked together to his car. You came here by taxi, and Patrick had offered to give you a ride back to your hotel. You waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't mention it. Giving me a ride back is enough."

His car was only within a few strides away when Patrick stepped in front of you.

"I can do more than that, you know? To pay you back."

"How?"

"I, we, can make Art jealous."

You halted and repeated your previous question. He arched an eyebrow, his expression said nothing but trouble, and when understanding dawned on you, you levelled him with a glare.

"No. Sleeping with you is the last thing I need right now."

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

You scoffed at the obvious bait, sidestepping him to reach the passenger side of his car.

"We can make out, take a photo, and I'll send it to Art. Make him realize what he's missing."

"If you want to kiss me, just say that. No need to make up excuses."

You rolled your eyes at him and realized just how much closer Patrick was to you than moments ago. He dipped his head to look at you, his gaze traced the shape of your lips and drifted to your eyes. When he spoke, his voice softened, low and careful, and your curiosity responded, pushing back the guard your inhibition had put up.

"I really do."

He leaned in, and you rose on your tiptoes to meet his lips. The touch was gentle and slow at first as you tested the pieces you needed to fit together. Then Patrick took over, and you followed his lead. His presence was all-encompassing, sweeping over your senses. Your lips lapsed and locked together in a feverish rhythm, a playful and exhilarating chase of lust. His tongue prodded at your entrance, and you opened yourself up to him. Your tongues intertwined, determined to draw whatever you needed from the other.

You didn't know when Patrick had pushed you up against his car, but you were grateful as your strength had become dependent on him. The cold metal of his car and the solid yet soft feel of his body created delicious friction on your skin. You grasped at each other's body, groping and pulling, your lips barely parted for a much-needed gulp of air. He grunted when you bit his lower lip, and that earned you a harsh, handful squeeze of your ass under your sundress. Your body called to his, and yet, a small part of your mind beckoned you to resurface, to come to the admission of the truth that you had been running away from.

Your ardour exchange slowed as you parted to breathe. Still, you met each other in the middle for brief touches, and you eventually pulled away. Patrick's thumb rubbed at the curve of your bottom lip as if he were admiring his work of art, which was swollen and glistening with his mark. His whisper was warm on your lips.

"Did you think about him?"

You nodded and swallowed.

"Did you think about her?"

It took him a moment, but he nodded. A woeful smile graced your swollen lips.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Revenge is always a good idea."

You touched his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"You don't win by sleeping with me. I don't want to be a perpetual pawn in the game that all three of you play. Besides, I don't think Art cares anymore."

Patrick shook his head.

"About what happened all those years ago? Maybe not. But I think he still cares about you."

"It doesn't make a difference though, does it?"

"I guess not."

You playfully and gently pushed him back, making Patrick set you down on your own shaky legs. Your front brushed against his arousal, and you bit your bottom lip in amusement.

"Come on, you still have to drive me back."

Before getting out of his car in front of your hotel, you reached for his hand.

"It was nice to see you again, Patrick. I really mean it."

His hand came up to meet yours, giving it a soft squeeze.

"You, too. I'm glad that we got to catch up."

You left his car without saying another word. Your heart was heavy, but at ease. Moving on and forward was your only option, but it felt much easier now. Still, you wished you would never have to see any of them ever again.

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[hismourningflower]

「 last kiss | genshin impact fanfiction 」 zhongli & neuvillette x gn!reader | angst, amnesia | requested work. ↳ additional tags. angst with no comfort, established relationships, reader kinda likes adrenaline (at least hinted - zhongli)

↳ ehehe... the first request i've taken !! this is the second time i've ever written for neuvillette omg.. this was requested by @crackheadclownery !!

Hi hi, dropping by to say i absolutely LOVED the Forget You fic aaaaaaaa🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 i love me some angst, this is just what I needed!!! I couldn't find if your requests are open, but if they are, would you please consider writing the same trope for zhongli and neuvillette? Feel free to ignore this if the requests are closed!!! Take care and have a nice day/night!!!!

data has been uploaded! - send an ask to join the taglist; specify genshin, honkai or both! @lovingluxury, @dumbificat, @starryshinyskies, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @ainescribe, @soleillunne

the jade's guidelines | genshin m.list | previous work

ZHONGLI didn't think it'd come down to this when he had eternally devoted himself to a partner - one that was mortal, nonetheless. he expected the sand timer of life, the ticking seconds and moments passed that he'd never get back with them; not this, no. not this. you were persistent and zhongli unfortunately had little ability to tell you the word no, especially when you flutter pretty eyelashes up at him and pout that lower lip.

that's how you ended up in this situation. had he been a little more stern, he could have prevented this. the geo archon had done many things in his lifetime that he harboured regrets for but this one possibly took the crown for it. how could he have been so reckless knowing the limited time he had with you at his side? zhongli scolds himself for not being more strict, if only to protect you for another day.

you'd bonded well to the adepti under zhongli's - former - command, knowing that your parter was the very well worshipped archon of liyue. in fact, you bonded so well to them that you were inseparable from the likes of xiao and shenhe when it came down to them working. you were determined for the thrill and zhongli wishes that maybe, time would have mulled down the adrenaline rush you got from it.

xiao's expression explained to zhongli more than words did regarding the severity of the situation, after all you were zhongli's partner - rex lapis, morax, the god of contracts, the lord of rock, the one who very well saved xiao in the darkest crevices of time and set him on a better path. amber eyes that shrink when they land on the taller male, gloved hands shaking as he tries to get his words out. they come out finally in a sharp gasp; you'd been fatally injured.

every soul in liyue trusted baizhu with their lives, maybe not hu tao but zhongli recognised the director had a different flavour of life she preferred. yet he could feel the anxiety growing in his chest, gnawing at his ribs like a rabid animal and it only worsened as xiao explained the damage you took to your head from the fall, trying to escape a lawachurl that xiao hadn't got to in time. ah, so his last surviving yaksha was also rotting to a guilt that wouldn't wither away?

zhongli has spent decades learning how to read emotions, facial expressions and gestures that the mortal realm commit to when words simply don't work. everything has been etched into his mind to the point where he could read everyone like an open book, something that sometimes works in his favour. there's a sorry look on baizhu's face, a grimace whenever he looks at zhongli right up to the moment where he utters that you've got amnesia.

time stops and there's nothing that could make the hands of the clock keep ticking at this revelation. he was prepared for the sand timer, the ticking seconds and moments passed he'd never get back with you. he was expecting the days to be counted, the wrinkles that would grace your face and tell tales of your youth. but if you forgot him, he had no more of that, did he?

for better or for worse, the famed geo archon made the decision not to see you for himself. not cradled up in a bed at the bubu pharmacy, battered and bruised and confused by your surroundings, the people around you. he wanted you to shine in his memories, like gold and for that, he wanted to remember how he last saw you before you'd left that day.

a bright grin on your face, eyes twinkling with excitement as he leaned to press a kiss to your lips, softly muttering his precautions and worries as his warm breath fans over your face. you brushed him off, returning the kiss before turning to leave your shared house and now he wishes he'd done anything, if only he'd grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into his firm chest. now, he must return home and see you everywhere but never you, yourself, your body and soul.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

partners in crime, that's what people would usually say to describe your relationship with NEUVILLETTE. after all, the iudex of fontaine entangled in a relationship so cherished and sweet with a member of the marechaussee phantom under his own command? the laws and legalities of fontaine sure had its own way of bringing people together.

you were a reputable member of the special detective force, determined and a valuable asset to their taskforce. neuvillette valued you both as a member of the marechaussee phantom and his very own partner, the one that toughened up his workaholic shell and slithered into his heart. he was in love, completely and utterly in love. it didn't take a genius to see that the iudex was just as devoted to you as he was his work, in fact he'd started to make space in his day just for you.

your job was much more dangerous than neuvillette's and he recognised that every time he would press a kiss to your head every morning before you parted ways at the aquabus station. he would be tucked safely away in the palais mermonia whereas you had criminals to deal with, scoundrels who dared defy the laws your very partner put in place.

neuvillette also recognised that you were a mortal. he'd kept his own personal life secret from you so in your naivety, you also thought he was a mortal - just an astounding and extraordinary one that you would never fail to smother in love. he wishes he'd told you, uttered his secrets and pressed his lips to your soft skin one more time when he realised the consequences of your job.

it was a day like no other, you were tasked with apprehending another dangerous criminal bold enough to resist arrest and by the archons, of course you was determined to chase them down. even if it meant a brawl breaking out in the midst of fontaine's serene countryside, the only sounds being the quiet chirp of distant birds and heavy pants of your struggles.

you succeeded in bringing him down just as reinforcements arrived to help detain the criminal and yet, the criminal could not let you have the last laugh, tripping you as you stood to walk away. your head met a rock, concussing you.

neuvillette waits for you every day at the aquabus station, ready to journey home with you after a tiring day sat filing through documents and being present for meetings. every evening, he considered what state you'd come home in this time - or if you'd even come home but he recognises that the marechaussee phantom would let him know if that fate ever disturbed the flow of your relationship.

with the fontainian sunset painting the most gorgeous backdrop - nothing that could compare to your beauty in neuvillette's eyes, - you finally approached in one piece and yet not an inch of a warm smile on your face as your eyes meet him. silently, you turn to wait for the aquabus. had he said something wrong? was you mad at him? neuvillette frowns, uttering your name quietly into the tense air but it comes out as a question.

"i'm sorry..." you mumble, furrowing your brows as you look up at the taller male. you couldn't deny he was handsome and you wondered if his partner knew that, "do i know you?"

that's when neuvillette notices chevreuse approaching but her footsteps stop the moment she notices that the man had already engaged in conversation with you. a defeated look accompanies the sorry smile that she gives neuvillette from behind you and he realises exactly what happened. his lips part but his mouth is dry, not even the richest waters of teyvat could quench the parch of his mouth at this moment as his heart breaks in his chest.

you'd lost your memory at work? the work that you did under his command? neuvillette grimaces when he realises you were still awaiting his response, his saddened eyes softening as they lower to you once again.

"my apologies, i mistook you for someone else." he sighs, turning forward to face the oncoming aquabus' arrival. yes, he mistook you for his dearly beloved, the one who held the key to his heart. he takes his step onto the aquabus, following behind you as he remembers that last kiss you shared at the station earlier that day. oh, if only he hadn't taken those kisses for granted.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[kittysarchive]

Hey there! I am the same anon who made the sub! Bad boy! Txt request. I absolutely loved the fic you wrote there haha 😆. If its okay, can you make the same for taehyun as well? I loved your content ❤️ Thanks a lot for uploading.

I'm glad you liked it :), I hope this meets your expectations!

"S-stop" Taehyun gasped as you gripped his cock hard. Panting as his back lay against the bed frame.

"Why? You want this....your already leaking" Your thumb grazed over his sensitive slit, causing him to hiss. He didn't like the situation you put him in.

"Stop teasing me..." Taehyun cried out. Your hand's never did more than stroke his hard member. He wanted more.

"But why? You want me to stop when your so needy for me?" You teased, giving his member a hard squeeze. Oh how you loved playing with him.

Taehyun was in no position to argue with you. Having had a title of the bad boy....yet here he was hands tied behind his back, begging you to use him.

"Just fuck me already" Taehyun cried out, lifting his hips, to show his desperation. Seeing how defenceless you made him, you decide it was time to please him.

Trying soothing new, you helped Taehyun lie down on his back. Instead on inserting yourself onto him, you continued to hover over him, until your pussy lay above his mouth.

"You want to be fucked? You better prep me baby" You lower yourself onto his mouth, instantly jolting at how his tongue moved. Deprived of air, Taehyun quickly slurped you up, licking your folds, teeth grazing over, his tongue slipping into your pussy.

His lewd slurping filled the room, trying to get more your rolled your hips, allowing Taehyun more room to tase.

"Not such a bad boy are you now?" You tease, seeing how Taehyun was so obsessed with your pussy, not worrying about his persona. Continuing to roll your hips, you soon Un straddled his mouth allowing air back into him. Taehyun lay gasping below you.

"So sweet" He whined, your juices covering his chin. Your eyes narrowed down as you spotted his red, leaky tipped cock. You had deprived it of any attention.

"Do you want mummy to fuck you" Your hands caressed his chest which was heaving for air.

"Y-yes please" Taehyun gasped, watching you straddle over his cock.

"Please..." He repeated throwing his head back as he felt you slam down on him. The air was once again pulled out of him as you shoed now mercy bouncing on his cock. Red, hard and needy, he was sensitive to your warmness, wetness and wet sounds your pussy made.

"Make those pretty sounds for me" Taehyun didn't supress his moans any more. breathy ad high pitched, he couldn't control his own voice.

"Ahh....." He whined out. His moans grew softer as his eyebrows furrowed. He was close. But you wouldn't let him just yet.

"I'm....I'm going to...." Taehyun cried out, his unstable wave of pleasure rode him.

"Don't you dare" You warned him. Taehyun cried once more, he couldn't hold it for much longer. Slamming down your hips faster, Taehyun struggled to keep up.

"I can't..." Taehyun whispered, to out of breath to declare his weakness. You were squeezing him so hard, he couldn't hold out any longer. Without your permission, he spurted out his cum. You felt his cum seethe into you, but you weren't done. You started to bounce harder and faster, you were close.

"Mommy!" Taehyun gasped, he hadn't expected you to keep going. Ignoring him you began to roll your hips for his sore, sensitive dick. Hands tracing his biceps, you came over his soft cock.

"Don't cum without permission" You warned once more, sliding off him. Taehyun hissed as the cold air hit his sore cock.

[bleaksqueak]

hiya...... i love them both very much sorry for any design inaccuracies i was drawing them from memory....... on that note, do you maybe have any design refs for ur characters? i wanted to draw them fullbudy but the comic is so dynamic and intricate that they always have some shading going on and some parts of their clothes are covered up, so i'm struggling with figuring out the base colors and all the outfit details. thanks again for the awesome comic :-D off to read the new upload!! 💐♥️🦭

Oh my god!! I didn't check tumblr for a couple of days and then come back and find this! I love sketches and pencil/ink drawings so much and they're so super cute how you drew them here!! Thank you so very much, I wish I could hang every drawing people send me on my wall. And look, no worries about design inaccuracies. I leave stuff off all the time, too, and they look perfect to me here. Design sheets!! i've been meaning to upload their full body refs and keep forgetting sfjkafj. These are sadly out of date as they were done before Chapter 0 was even finished, but I hope they suffice for now!

height side by side and a very very out of date literal-first-doodle of the back of the coat. Here's Audric's, which hasn't really changed at all since this initial design. He's just one of those rare characters that didn't have to go through a refinement phase. His reaper partner's design sheet is mostly done but I'd prefer to release hers when she actually comes into the comic properly.

Lyra and Audun, tho these are only sketches, both are final designs. Audun will get a clearer ref like Lyra's simple one later, I was designing his outfit in this one since that rank of officer coat hadn't been seen yet And here's a much more up-to-date sketch of Maia that will serve as a new model for her when I get to color it. Elias has a new one started, too, but will have to wait to be shown (... it's that messy lmao)

And Maia's cloak/coat assets (plus her vault key) that I use for production fitted together, these are up to date! Basically, the color base for their uniform is a dark warm-grey in most scenes (but since the actual uniform coat/cloak is black, this is just done for visibility and often I tint it to reflect whatever light is in the scene or to contrast it. So "it's black, but I usually choose a warm grey base to keep it visible." ... Silver and bronze accents are shown separated here. I put up a patreon pack a while back that has my actual assets and brushes I made for their uniform emblems, but for now, it's visible here)

[soundlesswind]

Went to the One OK Rock concert yesterday; which was amazing. One of the best concerts I've ever been to; Taka sang like a fallen angel (highs, and lows---they were all pitch perfect) It's already their 5th or 6th time here, yet I hadn't had a chance until now.

The sound quality and light show by the venue was also really great, I was pretty impressed. Would definitely go again if they used this venue or similar (it was huge and well ventilated). Move-in was also really fast, and they started the concert 19-minutes in which is really quick. You don't gotta line up either (except for general), if you bought assigned seats. The entire band members were fantastic, and they gave us two encores. The showmanship was definitely superb.

Part way through the concert, Taka (in English) was telling a cute story about how they went to a Japanese restaurant the day before. And they usually play rock-paper-scissors where winner has to pay for the entire crew (which Taka jokingly said was BS, since it's usually the other way around---he won of course). But that's when the owner walked out from the back and said the whole thing was on the house. OKR was surprised because it was the first time anyone had ever done this for them, so they invited the restaurant owners to the concert as thanks and put them on the spotlight. Afterwards, Taka enthused to not do this again because the concert was already a one-and-done day... but then his band members (in Japanese) replied that it would probably happen again later now that he said it (laughs), and continued to reply (in Japanese), "yeah we're probably going start more shit tonight". It was already their umpteenth world tour concert by now so I was surprised to hear this was their first time ever. I went with my friend who, this is her 5th time going to their concerts, and so I asked her how it compared to the previous ones she's been to and she said it was definitely their best to date; and she's seen them go from tiny cramped venues to something this spacious and practically full-house.

I've been a very long time fan from when they just started to garner fame but it makes me real happy to see that they've become a household name. Mid-show, Taka pointed the mic to the audience for one song, and they sang a whole verse in Japanese in unison, and honestly my city's population is not that big so I was surprised but also not surprised because everyone here truly are just super fans.

Unrelated, but my phone camera is surprisingly impressive? I caught a lot of footage in real decent light, sound and image quality (it won't be as nice uploaded to the web since it'll be compressed, but here's a short clip of my two favourites).

[jaime-brienne-fic-exchange]

The Handy Dandy Posting Guide

Posting Guide

As hard as it is to believe, we are here: the opening of the Jaime x Brienne 2024 Fic Exchange collection! I know, I know, it feels like prompts went out yesterday. But it's okay if you aren't quite done yet--the posting window is two weeks, so there's still time!

However, if you do know you cannot complete a fic please reach out to me as soon as possible so a knight writer can be arranged. Life happens and there’s no shame in needing a little help.

Now with the collection opening soon, here’s some FAQ on posting!

How does posting work?

There are two options: (1) Go to the collection here, and in the top right there will be a ‘Post to Collection’ button (2) Upload your fic to ao3 as usual, and make sure you enter JaimeBrienneFicExchange2024 in the collection field. From here, the process is the same. Fill in the relevant details and ensure you put your recipient’s AO3 name in the ‘Gift this work to’ field. Double check your original prompt to ensure you have the correct name. A few people have different tumblr/AO3 names and we don’t want any fics to go astray. If you’ve already made an AO3 draft before the today, make sure you add it to the collection and put in your recipient’s username in the fields mentioned above, and make sure you change the date when posting (or your fic will be buried). Be aware it can cause some shenanigans where the fic may not appear at the top of the page.  After that, it’s as simple as clicking post! Your fic will be submitted to the exchange and automatically be made anonymous. 

I can see my name, something went wrong!

Deep breath. As the author, when you open your own fic (posted or in a draft), it will say ‘Anonymous [YourUsername]’, but to other users it will simply say ‘Anonymous’. If that is not how it appears, double check that it is added to the correct collection and reach out if you still have a problem. Author’s names will not be revealed until October 7th, when I click the button to reveal them. Feel free to reply to comments during that week. As long as you are logged into the account that posted the fic, all of your comments will also be anonymised. 

What about Lil’ Oathkeepers?

I’m glad you asked, imaginary exchange participant that’s totally not me talking to myself! A Lil’ Oathkeeper is a gift that can be any size and shape. It can be art! A video edit! A moodboard! A fic shorter than 1000 words! Or… a fic longer than a 1000 words, but you probably know that. Anyone (you don’t even have to be signed up to the exchange) can make and gift a Lil’ Oathkeeper. I’ll be releasing the prompt spreadsheet and posting instructions once all gifts are posted.

Can I thank my beta in the notes of my story?

Absolutely you can! The betas of the fandom work HARD, they definitely deserve recognition. Just be mindful of including anything in your notes that might reveal who you are. You could choose to name your beta, or just thank them generally and add their name after authors have been revealed.

What if I don’t receive a story?

Everyone gets a story. Authors have until September 30th to post a complete fic, so chances are they just haven’t posted yet. It also might be because your fic needed a knight writer to write it. If this is the case, know that your knight is probably working very diligently to complete it, but might not be able to complete it within the posting window. If it looks like your fic will be significantly delayed (like until after authors are revealed) we will contact you directly to let you know what’s up.

What’s the etiquette around thanking my author? 

It can be hard to know what to say when you get a gift fic. Maybe it takes the prompts somewhere you hadn't imagined, or maybe you love it so much high-pitched pterodactyl noises are all you can manage. Maybe it's both. But it is good manners to leave a kudos and a comment. It doesn't have to be a long comment, and length does not equal love, but your author worked hard and deserves to have that effort recognised. And if you don't quite have time to read your gift right now? Please pop in and say so if you can!

Can I promote my story?

Please don’t do this until authors have been revealed through the collection. Once they have, go wild!

Can I rec my gift story?

Absolutely! Share the love! You can choose to rec it while it’s still anonymous, or wait until the authors are revealed. It’s up to you.

Have another question that hasn’t been answered in the FAQs? Just reach out! I can be reached via Tumblr, Discord, or jbficexchange@gmail.com and will get back to you ASAP!

I'm sure the panic is kicking in, but I promise you have time to create and share something wonderful. Keep calm and have fun, I can't wait to see what you have written!

[reggiejworkshop]

"Animaniacs Crew as Lupin's Crew"

Yakko The Third: "Hello, Inspector Scratchy! Never thought you'd find us here at Fort Knox so fast. What's your secret?"

Inspector Scratchensniff: "I bought Ralph new running shoes"

Four thieves have just pulled of a major bank heist, and two inspectors have pulled off said thieves' disguise.

Anyone's who's seen the last ballpoint pen sketch post I did will recognize this scene.

I had already drawn quite a few characters from Animaniacs cosplaying as various characters from Lupin the Third.

 Buster Bunny as Goemon, Dot as Fujiko, Wakko as Jigen, and of course Yakko as the notorious wolf thief!

But I hadn't drawn Zenigata yet, and I was really torn on who it could be. Scratchensniff has the smarts, strictness, and determination while Ralph has the stamina, willpower, and of course speed.

So I figured in this scenario, why not both?. Make em' a team!

It had been a while since Id done any serious inking with my art pens. I didn't plan on using a lot of colored pencils for this one, but one of the sets of markers I used, despite being labeled as alcohol based, behaved like water-based ones. They were streaky and bled into some of the finer line work I did.

The only other slight issue I have with this was that the scanner I used to upload this flattened out some of the colors and diluted some of the contrast. Even with some post edits to this, it's not perfect to how it actually looked.

Oh well, I still love it! 

[3ofpents]

Fresno Nightcrawler Houndstooth // Fabric Design for @shapeshiftersvt and The Cryptid Collection

Remember way back a few weeks ago when I posted the Squonk poster and I said that once I'd designed the fabric to go along with it I'd start posting the fabric designs here? Well guess what! It's time!

For those who don't remember or who didn't know, I am the co-owner, site manager, and graphic designer for @shapeshiftersvt. 2024 marks our 10th anniversary and we wanted to do something big and special and new to mark the occasion and my partner, co-owner, head tailor, fashion designer, and founder, Eli, pitched a fashion line themed around cryptids. We call it The Cryptid Collection and it features six of our and the internet's favorite cryptids: The Fresno Nightcrawler, Mothman, the Jackalope, the Jersey Devil, Champ, and the Squonk.

My parts of the collection were designing the posters, and creating fabric designs for our very own, truly Shapeshifters designed chest binders and sports bras. But since we utilized Spoonflower to have those fabrics printed, they're also available through the Spoonflower marketplace for anyone to buy for their own sewing projects.

And now that all of the fabric designs are done and uploaded and proofed and listed, I, as promised, am posting them here to talk a bit more in-depth about them, the thoughts and inspirations behind them, and the design process.

Starting with the Fresno Nightcrawler.

Part of the reason I'm starting with the Fresno Nightcrawler is because this was the very first design that I finished. When we were planning out the fabrics, it was the most solid design concept I had that wasn't just adapting the poster design to fabric (mostly because ... I hadn't done the poster yet). It was the first one I really came up with, the one I was most excited about, and the one that pretty much stayed the same from concept to execution.

I love houndstooth. Which is weird to say when I don't think I've ever owned a single garment or accessory in with a houndstooth pattern? But I do, I love it. I love the teeny tiny classic version of the pattern; I love a blown-up graphic version of the pattern; I love plays and variations on it. So when I was trying to brainstorm what kind of fabric pattern I could make inspired by a creature with such a simple shape whose only colors were white and black, the idea came pretty quickly: A houndstooth. Or a Nightcrawlertooth, if you will. It was a trick, though, and a real learning experience, especially with this being my first design.

Getting a pattern to repeat smoothly is a skill unto itself. Basically you have what's called a tile, and the tile contains the part of the pattern that you want to repeat. Then, when your pattern is created, the original tile just gets essentially copy-pasted over and over so 1) you don't have to draw the whole yard of fabric, and 2)all of the repeated parts of the design are identical. But by doing it this way, you have seams you need to take into consideration. If you think of putting the pattern together, it's sort of like making a basic quilt: You start with one square (or rectangle), then attach four more squares to each side, and then just keep doing that. Each one of those seams (top, bottom, left, right) is a place where the pattern might not match up, which means when it's applied to a yard of fabric, it's not going to look like a smooth, seamless pattern.

Of course there's ways to avoid this altogether. If you're doing a simple stripe, using the line tool in your drawing software will keep your stripe a consistent thickness, and holding SHIFT while you draw it will keep the line straight. Or, even easier, you can create a pattern where the part that repeats doesn't straddle a seam; like a polkadot pattern, where the dot(s) can be centered on the tile and seams only cut through a solid background.

The trouble with a houndstooth, though, is that not only does the tile need to repeat, it's made up of repeating figures that interlock. I can't just center the white Nightcrawler on the tile and call it a day, because then the black Nightcrawler straddles the seam. On top of that, they needed to be shaped in such a way that the negative space between the white Nightcrawlers left a shape that was also recognizable as a Nightcrawler and similar enough to the white one that the pattern is mostly seamless.

I fully admit that I was not able to do this on my own. Enter: Eli. Eli is, among other things, a math nerd who enjoys an excuse to break out the graph paper. They found a tutorial online and got to graphing and shaping and, in just a couple of hours, had gotten the shapes down. I took that tile, illustrated it, cleaned up the seams (shoutout to Eli for also finding an easier way to do this than just manually copy-pasting), and voila! A Fresno Nightcrawler houndstooth.

Now, you might look at that image up there and say, "Well that's all well and good, Pents, but they're kind of blobby and the lines are wobbly and it's all a little uneven." To which I say ... yeah, that's true. It's also kind of intentional. Like, I'm not gonna sit here and claim I got the basic pattern done and wasn't exhausted. But also I could've left it and come back to it the next day to clean up the lines and shapes a bit more, make everything really smooth and even. But, like. Look at this guy.

He's just a weird kinda blobby little dude. So I left the pattern kinda weird and blobby.

Even if I'd cleaned it, it's such a blobby little shape that's so at odds with the classic houndstooth that's all straight lines and sharp angles. So I made a deliberate choice to not polish it up. To kind of lean into the kodama vibes:

I am really so so proud of and pleased with this design. It came out almost exactly how I pictured it; it was really the most true design collaboration between Eli and I; and I'm just so pleased, after a lifetime of being a houndstooth lover, to now also have designed a houndstooth.

If you'd like a custom-sized, handmade, made-to-order binder or sports bra in this houndstooth like the one in the photos, you can find those listings (as well as the poster listing) here, on the Shapeshifters website. There are three pattern size options, the classic teeny tiny version; a somewhat bigger medium size; and a super graphic large size. Our binders are the most comfortable and effective on the market thanks to our finely graded internal sizing system. Because we're a small operation that makes every garment to order, both our binders and sports bras are highly customizable, and can be made to ALL measurements with flat pricing across sizes.

If you'd like to purchase the fabric yourself for your own sewing projects, you can order it through our Spoonflower shop, where we have it listed in the same three pattern sizes.

[gotthicbish]

Tired

idol!wooyoung x F!reader

W.C 4k

Tw: a little angst no comfort

Note: I wanted to portray a different Wooyoung, this man usually is happy and confident, but what happens when he isn't the hyped up woo we know. 

It's been a while since Wooyoung and you had a date, and it isn't about the time because both of you barely get time off, he is an idol and you have your work. You have been finding it more difficult to work around his hours and he does the same for you. The saddest part is that you love each other so much, but you slowly feel like he isn't as caring as before. He starts to become more and more distant between you and him.

Lately you both have not been able to even talk through the phone, and indeed feels like you both have broken up with the other. It has been a long 2 month silence since you decided to not reach out back to him or you to try to reach out, until Wooyoung comes back to Korea and he is completely uncomfortable with the idea of you just walking away from him. But actually he knows he was the one who pushed you away.

He started to feel inadequate for everything. He couldn't dance as he used to, he couldn't sing as he used to. You were not there and it was affecting him. In the moment he knows he is overthinking everything. That you might not be mad, just busy but deep down the idea that you could have just given up on him hurt. You could have given up on the “US” that existed. The idea of that happening hurt more than he would like to admit. Even though San and Yeosang have been trying hard to not let him get too down. He denies himself from even trying to talk to you. He just gave up on the idea of you two working it out. And it became worse when you uploaded a selfie with friends on a Hiking trip. Because he was right, you gave up.

You would never have thought of leaving him. But one of your friends asked you, "why are you so worried for someone that won't notice if you stop reaching out". That sparked a question in your brain, "would he reach out if I don't do it?" The answer hurts you more than you thought. Radio silence. That's what you got, nothing, not even a picture, a message, anything. RADIO SILENCE.

You always reached for him first, you kept doing your best and just your best but nothing seems to be enough. Wooyoung never reached out for you first. And that was your fault. Because you made him get used to you being the one that is always there. You made sure that he can't even think that you don't love him. But being honest, you could be just done. You could be done with him doubting your love for him. You could be done by him just never doing anything for you.

What were you for him? Just a service dog or something like that? He can just search for you when he needs you and then throw you away? Everything started to make sense. He only reached when he needed you to do something for him. But he never did it first because he loved you. (Or that's what you thought) How can it be that he didn't even send a little hi, or anything, he just left your conversation there for 2 months now.

He was already back in Korea, but still he hadn't reached out yet... You went out with your friends again, hiking, shopping and today to have a little dinner with friends in a pretty restaurant of Korean BBQ. The last person you wanted to see is there. Wooyoung with the rest of Ateez you play dumb like you haven't seen him. You just let him be away, he wanted that. He never reached back to you in these two months and not even now.

That's enough, you don't need that. You have friends that care for you and you have your family that supports you. Even after that you felt like you were missing something. You loved him, but he didn't love you as much as you did, or at least his actions made it feel like he didn’t care.

It took Wooyoung some time but he recognized her, but not her looks, mostly her laugh, that cute sound that he loved. But seeing her enjoying hurt him. Was she really sick of him? Did she find another man? Did she stop caring about him? What about all the plans? all the goals? all the dreams… He went to his phone and searched for her contact on his message app. Curiosity got the best of him and he started to read, and she started every conversation they had. 

She.

Started.

Every.

Conversation.

That hit him hard, she just got tired. She just stopped and he never reached to her. Was it too late? He started to type

He could see her turning off her notifications and stuffing her phone inside her purse to keep talking with the people around her.

Because it was true, it's too late.

IDK DONT KILL ME PLS I THIS WAS AN IDEA I WANTED TO SIMPLY DO IT

I LOVE YALL

[josiesullysblog]

Tainted

~AGED UP Neteyam x Metkayina oc

~Fluff, touching

~Proofread-no

~Summary-fated mates. :) Neteyam and the reader are 20.

~Note-i’m still working on outcast, but it’s taking longer then expected. So, till it’s done i’ll be uploading stories that are sitting in my drafts!

***

Born at 11:30 at night, your parents named you Luna. As they said you came out with such a smile the moon itself smiled down at you.

Despite being born at night, your personality was of the sun. Constantly smiling, looking out for others, and just being a ray of sunshine.

Your mother likes to call you, “a gift from ewya,” as you were her first and only child. You were never alone, always surrounding yourself with kids around your home.

Especially Tsireya, you two became close friends when it was your turn to learn the way of the water. You were forever grateful for her friendship, yet something was missing.

Your mother used to tell you stories when you were younger, of these mates.

How they were from separate tribes and would meet in the middle of their homes to simply talk. And soon became mates.

But this upset the unity of the tribes, and war soon struck out. The war lasted many years, and soon the mates were killed during the battle.

Ewya saw this and concluded the war must end. It’s said she buried the mates together, holding hands and taking a piece of both souls, and letting one go with each tribe.

The souls yearn for the other, but sadly never find his other half due to being in different tribes. The tribe’s names are never mentioned, nor is there a way to know who carries the soul.

Some believe it is just another story, but you believed it was real.

Often, you would get lost while exploring the ocean. It's funny that you lived there your whole life, yet you feel as though you’ve only seen a fraction of its beauty. Today, you were exploring the coral reef when something shiny caught your eye. You swam towards it, captived by it almost like it was calling your name. You were so focused on trying to see what it was, you hadn't realized the boy whose eyes also had seen the shiny shell. As you got closer, you drew your hand out to touch it but instead, it touched a hand. You drew your hand back, looking at the boy, but gasped as you noticed him. He was not from your clan, the boy gasped and swam to the top.

You followed after him, wanting to question him. By the time you go to the top, he was already out of the water causing you to run after him. “Hey, boy wait!” you caught up and tapped his shoulders making him face you. His eyes bore into making you momentarily forget how to breathe.

His beauty rendered you silent, you forgetting why you followed him in the first place. His face was familiar, even though you knew you never met him before. “Hi,” you coughed out trying to break the uncomfortable silence. He seemed shy, only giving you a wave back, but the wave was all you need to break into a smile. “Hi, I’m Luna, You're new here, what's your name?” the boy continued to stare at you as if you hadn't asked a question.

“Oh, I'm Neteyam!” he answered quickly. You laughed and were going to ask another question when the boy's name was being yelled. “Oh, your whole family is here!” you saw the little girl who called his name and waved. “Well, wouldn't wanna keep your family waiting!” you said yet you didn't move an inch. “Yea,” you two stood there lost in each other eyes, seeing who’d move first.

“Teyem! Come on it's dinner time!” the little girl came closer grabbing the boy's hand. “Tuk, I’m coming!” he smiled, “will you be there?” you laughed, “I have nowhere else to be!” you waved them off as the little girl dragged Neteyam away. You showed a smile, but you felt like something was wrong. Like you were connected to the boy.

Neteyam’s mind kept going back to you. How your eyes sparkled when you looked at him. How your words came out with, such a command that you can't miss. He had to see you again, “did you hear a word I just said?” Lo’ak groaned. They all sat eating dinner with the tribe, “sorry,” he muttered when he notice you walk in. His eyes immediately cling to you as you sat down with your family.

Almost like you knew where he was, you waved and smile at him. “Come here!” you mouthed and the boy rose to his feet quickly, “I’ll be back,” shocking his whole family. Neytiri watched as the boy sat next to a girl, When had he met her? “He was talking with her earlier too,” Tuk voiced as if she heard Neytiri’s thoughts.

Neteyam and you became talking as if you two had known each other your whole life. He told you of his siblings, and the adventures he’d have back in the forest. You sat there, opened-eyed, listening to every word he’d say. “I wish I could see!” you were always fascinated by the other clans that surrounded Pandora. “You know we can take a quick spin on my Ikran.”

You beamed at his words, “I’d love that! But we’d need to be careful, my mother would not like it if I left without her permission.” Your words, normally, would've turned him away, Lo’ak was the one to bend rules. He was a rule follower, and always did what was right. So, even Neteyam couldn’t explain why he snuck the both of you out.

“This is going to be so much fun! I’ve never been on an Ikran before!” Neteyam smiled as you spoke, “I’ve never seen one before too! They chose you right?” Neteyam nodded, “that's so cool! I’ve always wanted to ride one, but my mom says-,” you stopped speaking, “why’d you stop?” you blushed, “sorry, I was ranting. It happens and Aonung says it can be annoying sometimes.” you smiled at the boy.

“It's not annoying, I enjoy hearing you speak it's comforting.” a blush covered your cheeks, “no one’s ever said that about me before, thank you!” Neteyam went to face you, but your eyes sparkled as you came face to face with the Ikran. “They're gorgeous!” Neteyam’s eyes were on you, “yea, gorgeous,” he couldn't help but feel this pull toward you as if he was meant for you. You slowly approached them, scared they might attack if provoked, “this one is mine,” he brought you to one, gently grabbed your hand, and let you pet it. The Ikran let out a soft purr, “this is so cool!” you hadn't noticed the boy staring at you till you turned, “can we fly him?” he nodded before jumping on, and you followed his lead.

“Hold on tight alright,” you nodded as he made the bond and took off. You had your eyes closed, scared of opening them as a large gush of wind hit your face, “open your eyes,” Neteyam said in your ear. You looked down at the town you've known your life and saw it in a completely different way. “The town looks beautiful from this height!” you were so happy, it didn't cross your mind how long you both were out for.

“Tsireya!” your mother stormed towards the girl and her family, “have you seen my daughter?” Tsireya saw you and Neteyam sneak off, but she wasn't going to snitch you out, “I last saw her during dinner.” Your mother sucked her teeth in, Ronal placed her hands around the woman, “do not worry, she could not have gone far.” The woman nodded.

“Tsireya is a lair,” Aonung came into the tent, “she, as well as I, saw Luna go off with that freak!” Tsireya's eyes widen, “Aonung!” the boy rolled his eyes, “they were talking about Ikran’s, I would not be shocked if he took her on a joy ride.” Your mother's eyes widen, “bring Jake Sully here NOW!”

Jake and Neytiri walked into the room, “where have you kept your Ikrans?” Jake was almost stunned by the question, “by the ocean edge, why?” Your mother's feet made hast, “your son has decided to take my child, on a ride.” the two parents followed closely behind your mother and Ronal, they couldn't believe their ears. Neteyam would never do that. I mean it was such a ridiculous sentence you’d almost laugh. “Dear Ewya,” Neytiri muttered.

Neteyam had brought his Ikran with the rest of his family before you dragged him a little farther away. “This is where you can see the moon and stars the best!” you smiled as you saw his eyes sparkle, “I mean we technically saw it better when we were flying, but I wanted to show you my special place,” you sat down patting the area next to you to which he sat next to you gladly, “this is amazing,” you showed off a proud smile, “your father is from a star, right?” your eyes locked with the boy, to which you both unconsciously moved closer. “Yea, he tells us stories about it all the time,” your eyes fell to his lips, “must be cool, to be from a star,” Neteyam shrugged, “not really, get called a freak half the time.” You moved even closer, “our differences are what make us special.” it was the last sentence you were able to say before he crashed his lips on you.

You straddled him, placing a hand on his face and deepening the kiss. You hadn't realized how good it felt to kiss him, till you both were forced to let go because you needed air, “I don't know why, but ever since I met you I've been feeling this pull,” Neteyam spoke as he attempted to catch his breath, “almost like I can't live without you.” You smiled grabbing his hand and placing it on your breast, “I want you to mark me,” you grinded into the boy, “taint me, let them know who fucked me.” Neteyam’s hand fell to your waist making your hips grind harder, “you irresistible, baby,” you went to kiss him but the yell of your name stopped you.

“Luna!” Your mother's voice made you pull yourself off the boy, “what are you doing this deep out? And with a boy? What if you got hurt?” It took her to realize the scene in front of her, Neteyam had a visible smirk, and you were out of breath, “child, what were you two doing?”

You couldn't even come up with a lie, so you chose silence. Jake and Neytiri finally caught up with the group, “Neteyam you better have a good explanation,” Jake said sending daggers at the child. “Have you two mated?” Ronal questioned, causing everyone to face her, but from the lack of words from you two, they turned to face you both. “No, we were just hanging out!” you smiled. “You convince no one but yourself, child!”

“I took her for a flight after she expressed how much she wanted to see an Ikran,” Neteyam said which thankfully, they believed. “Next time, say something!” your mother brought you into her embrace, “sorry,” you said though you did not mean it. You wished they came later, so you and Neteyam could do what you truly wanted.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Neteyam said walking off with his parents.” you smiled at him, you were definitely seeing him again.

Ronal’s eyes followed you both, she sensed energy around you both, one only Ewya can bring.

***

This story has been sitting in my drafts forever! Finally finished it, hope you enjoy!

[random-introverted-blog]

His Star - His Queen [Chapter 8 - Changes]

Who you are - Who you're not - Who are you?

Summary: From parents one week, to a jeweler and a business meeting the next, the Ascendant has been very busy. And you've done your best to play the part of a reluctantly behaved consort.

But for how long before the lines blur?

Link to the Tumblr Chapter Index

Warnings/Advisories: Blood, a reference to violence, the Ascendant is very creepy again, possessive behavior, implied SA throughout, emotional and psychological manipulation.

A/N: This took a million years because I kept adding to it. There's a lot that's going to be happening soon. If we were on a rollercoaster together, we're nearing the crest of the high-drop. Thank you everyone for your patience. Please enjoy and forgive the sweat and blood all over the place. I edited as much as I could but there's so much I'll probably be making post-upload edits for awhile.

Chapter is 8,516 words.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

You find a twisted comfort in the warmth of the blood on your hands, as it decorates your arms like a piece of art and adorns the lovely little dress of various pastel colors you had been dolled up in all day.

It doesn't change that you don't remember what happened. One moment, you stood there with this peculiar, yet charming, elderly couple. Conversing with them, as they understood they were not your real parents. But they held onto the hope that you could still be a family together.

You weren't sure if you felt guilty for never telling them outright the truth of your parentage, or for the haunting screams that echoed in remnants of memory in your mind from the savagery inflicted on them in the name of your father.

Savagery that you can't remember.

But is splattered across your arms and across the room.

At some point, it seems you had attempted to infuse your glass of water with the taste of the woman's bloody finger, only to lose interest and abandon the finger in the glass. And the red, very dead eyes of the man seemed to pierce into your unwavering stare, forever frozen in a state of terror.

They were so happy to see you. So sweet. And in return for their boundless affection, you unleashed an unfathomable storm of brutality. The echoes of violence reverberated in your skull, drowning out the once rich sounds of laughter. The scent of blood and fear hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of freshly baked cookies that the mother had brought with her, along with a story of how she commandeered the palace kitchen. It was astonishing that his spawn hadn't erupted into a chaotic frenzy yet. You had no doubt they were the parents of the other you. You were willing to play along, at least for their sake...

"Oh dear. Now just look at this mess..." scolded a familiar voice behind you, by the door, though the tone was more amused than annoyed. His footsteps creating a soft thud as he approached then appeared beside you. "Is everything alright, my love? What happened?" he asked, worry lacing his words. Crouching down, he met your height, his hand brushing against your arm, grounding you in the chaos - with genuine concern etched on his face. From the corner of your eyes you caught his noting the pool of scarlet blood your knees have been bathing in, seeping into his expensive dark wood floorboards.

His fingers delicately pushed aside the blood-streaked strands of hair from your face, somewhat sticky with blood. "Did they hurt you?" Astarion presses, but his tone remains gentle.

You shake your head; the motion accentuated by the soft rustle of your hair brushing against the surface of your shoulders. Wrapping your arms around yourself. "I... No, but..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. Astarion's gaze meets yours, his eyes searching for answers. "Astarion, I don't have parents..." The words leave your lips softly, like a whisper carried by the wind. "Not like you know them." You take a deep breath, the coolness filling your lungs, as if it could somehow ease the weight on your shoulders. Despite your desire for him to know as little about you as possible, this is a secret that can no longer be kept safely. If you ever could.

Astarion studies you, his brow quirks in curiosity. Yet he refrains from mocking or making a witty comment at your expense. "Care to elaborate on that for me, pet?" With a gentle touch, he reached for your arms and guides you to your feet.

Whispering with a tremble that betrays your inner turmoil, the kind that's drowned out by the beat of your own heart thundering in your ears. "I... I'm a Bhaalspawn..." The words taste like a secret - heavy and dangerous, surrendered to the silence between you and meant for his ears alone.

Despite his composed demeanor, you can't help but notice the subtle tensing of his body, a slight stiffness that betrays his reaction to your words. A faint scent of tension lingering in the air, like the crackling of electricity before a storm. "I see," the silence punctuated only by his murmured response, his voice carrying a contemplative tone.

To your utter surprise, he pulls you, your body caked in sticky crimson blood, into his arms. His once immaculate red and black suit becomes stained with the dark, viscous liquid. His embrace tightens around your waist, constricting like a vice. "My apologies, darling. I should have weighed the differences between you and her more carefully." He croons, his voice low and velvety.

Rather than attempt to push him away, sneer, bite, hiss... You simply let your shoulders relax and your eyes gently shut. Like a warm blanket on a crisp autumn morning, his scent embraced you, equal parts familiar and entirely different. You shouldn't be doing this. What would your Star think...?

But you can't think. Your arms ache and your hands pulsate, likely from the repetitive actions of brutally bludgeoning the lovely couple into a mangled pulp resembling a tomato soup. Your wicked heart rejoices in the kills, feeling a dark and twisted satisfaction, a sickening feeling that emanates from deep within your chest. A profound self-hatred arises for harboring a sense of fulfillment that you realize has quietly found its home within you.

Astarion's arms tighten, his touch firm yet gentle. The sound of his steady heartbeat fills your ears as he pulls you nearer to his chest. "You're discontented with your blood," he murmurs the words, a statement rather than a question. "I'll explore what can be done, though I suspect I may have an answer already." Determination fills his voice, slender fingers threading through your hair.

"Ensure that dinner is served in my bedchamber this evening." Astarion commands, his piercing gaze sweeps over the bustling crowd of servants and guards at the door.

A half-elf servant's eyes dart nervously as he observes him. "But the guests--"

"Serve them in the dining hall as planned. Ballar will excuse our absence, and I will handle the rest in the morning," he snaps, his impatience palpable as he gazes down at you. His eyes emit a soft glow that is strangely captivating rather than terrifying. He replies impatiently as he looks down at you, eyes glowing red but soft and not all-consuming. Simultaneously, the shadows lurking in the corners of the room begin to slither towards you, their movements silent yet eerily mesmerizing. Gradually, they envelop both of you, plunging you into an abyss of darkness.

It's a strange feeling, like a gentle and chilly breeze that dances across your skin.

Then the shadows recede and you, still standing in his arms, find yourself transported to a room that dwarfs the familiar confines of your own. If opulence could be a room, this would be it.

A gentle, feather-light kiss lands on the crown of your head, sending a shiver down your spine as your attention shifts to Astarion. "I will draw a warm bath for you," he murmurs, his voice a gentle serenade that caresses your ears. "Feel free to explore the bedchamber to your heart's desire. We'll be sharing it in time, after all." With those simple words, he releases you from his warm embrace, and you watch as he gracefully glides behind you, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Your eyes trace his every movement until he disappears behind a simple wooden door.

Though choosing to ignore his reasons, you take him up on his offer - kicking your bloody shoes off and allowing your bare feet to tread the warm, burgundy carpet throughout the space. The centerpiece of the room is the large, fourposter bed. Framed in mahogany and adorned with intricate reliefs depicting events in history... is that... the netherbrain?

Of course, only the finest silks and velvets, deep shades of red and purple, adorn the bed. Above, a canopy of rich, embroidered fabric drapes down, adding to the sense of regal splendor.

On one side of the room a large bay window, framed with heavy velvet curtains in royal blue and embroidered gold, overlooks the bustling city and distant sparkle of stars flitting above the Sword Coast. A plush window seat, adorned with soft cushions, inviting you to take a seat to relax and think, or perhaps finish the book you've been enjoying the past few nights.

The walls are artworks and tapestries, some magical and depicting wondrous scenes, others more mundane in comparison. With some of these concealed by ominous dark sheets. Between them, shelves, cabinets, dressers of dark wood you presume hold treasures or the like.

A grand fireplace dominates the other wall, its mantle exquisitely carved, a show of incredible craftsmanship. It's fire alight and casting a warm glow over the room. Nearby, an elegant writing desk equipped with fine parchment, inks and quills, very well used by your estimation, and framed by two wall sconces. The room is bathed in a soft, warm glow from the lights of the crystal chandeliers and wall sconces, creating an enchanting and regal atmosphere.

The creaking of the door beside the fireplace catches your attention and you're greeted by the sight of a shirtless Astarion, hand extended and beckoning you. "Come, love, it's ready." He says, smiling warmly when you accept and cross the room toward him.

He takes your hand and walks with you into the room, steamed slightly from the warm water and guiding you around the large marble bathtub to a shelf lined with various scented oils and soaps. "I believe we have the vanilla and amber oil you've taken to using lately, if that is what you'd like tonight." Astarion offers in a calming rumble of his chest as he steps behind you. His fingertips graze your skin as he unbuttons the dress for you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Normally, you would smack his hands at the mere thought of him undressing you. But you're so... tired. And drained... and all you want is to clean off the blood caked on your skin.

So you simply pluck one oil after the other off the shelf, examine the selection with some mild interest while Astarion does most of the work taking the dress off you until you need to lift your arms or legs to get it off completely. In the end you settle on a cinnamon and honey scent, one he acknowledges with a silent nod and subtle smile.

It dawns on you, as he turns away with the oil, that he intends to join you in the bath... right as you realize he's as naked as you are. He returns and replaces it on the shelf before retrieving a bar of soap next.

He guides with a hand on the small of your back to the tub and eases you both into the warm water.

Just like that, you find yourself naked and immersed in a hot bath with a twisted version of Astarion, a tyrant of a ruler over... is it just Baldur's Gate or the entire Sword Coast? And to your surprise, he makes no move to touch you like that. Instead, he focuses on helping you wash in a somewhat comfortable silence.

Even as he washes the blood from your hair and face, his hands remain appropriate. He asks a few questions about your urge but nothing beyond the standard array of curious ones to better understand it - as well as what memories you do have of your life.

Then he asks you the burning question. "Did you enjoy your meeting with the cockroach today, my pet?" The Ascendant calmly asks as he sets the soap aside.

He chuckles at your tense reaction, brushing his fingers through your wet hair. "Of course I would know, darling. It wasn't much of a reach." As his arm snakes around your waist, slowly dragging you into him.

"And you're not...?" you cautiously inquire, anticipating his reaction, whether it be anger or irritation.

"It doesn't concern me." Astarion answered, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance, "he can try all he likes, but no matter what he does, his efforts will never be enough to steal you away from me."

His choice of words had you contorting in his grasp, twisting to meet his gaze. "Remind me who stole me first?" You bite and narrow your gaze at him.

Astarion's piercing scarlet eyes, shimmering with an unexpected tenderness, meet yours, locking in an intense gaze. As his hand, radiating warmth, delicately caresses yours beneath the soothing embrace of the fragrant bathwater, the soft sound of water gently lapping against the sides of the tub creates a serene ambiance. Leaning closer, his presence alone almost whispers lovingly to yours, "One day," he murmurs, his voice caressing your ears and easing your worries despite your reluctance to part with them, "everything will become clear to you, my love."

You want to say it was him who started what happens first... but deep down; you lack certainty. All you know is what follows. Your lips meld with his, the taste somewhat of metal and fine wine. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears intertwines with that of your shared breaths between kisses. As his hands trace the curves of your hips, a gentle tug brings you onto his lap, his arousal grazing against your thigh as you settle. Your hands find their place on his chiseled chest, feeling the sculpted muscles beneath your fingertips.

In the depths of your thoughts, faint whispers echoes in the recesses of your mind, begging you to stop this. Growing louder and more frantic as his hands guide you into a tantalizing grind on his thigh. But it's the soft, intimate sounds that escape your parted lips as you press them against his, filled with longing and anticipation, that abruptly shatter your daydream, causing your hands to instinctively push against him.

One of his hands holds firmly holds you close to his body, while the other hand playfully teases one of your breasts, his fingers tracing delicate patterns that make your skin tingle with anticipation. When his lips withdraw from yours, a path of soft kisses awakens your yearning, as his breath, filled with warmth, delicately sweeps across your neck. Every touch, every nibble, creates a captivating blend of anticipation and desire that floods your senses. You can feel the gentle graze of his fangs, a delicate reminder of his primal nature, as he tenderly kisses and nibbles with his teeth. The friction of your instinctive grinding against his firm thigh creates a captivating sensation that is gradually consuming you. Just as you begin to comprehend the severity of the moment, he confidently lifts your hips, leaving you helpless to resist the pull of desire...

____________________________________________________________________

Well... at least this time you're not waking up naked with him. Like you do most nights as of the last nine days.

As you wake up, you find yourself nestled against his strong, muscular body. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. Your cheek rests against his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. His arm draped over you, while his fingertips delicately trace patterns along your back. Their touch seeping through the fabric of your nightgown and sending a soothing sensation through your body. The faint ache in your muscles reminds you of the passionate evening you shared with him, lingering memories of him between your legs while you sat on the edge of his writing desk. However, the soreness is much milder compared to the first time. Perhaps it's the result of spending the past tenday in his constant, inseparable presence.

Sensing you're awake, his other hand gently weaves through your hair, nails tenderly caressing your scalp. "Good morning, beautiful," his voice reverberates in his chest, rumbling against your ear. You sense he doesn't expect or require a response from you, allowing you to bask in the moment's serenity. Succumbing to the blissful sensation of his fingers caressing your scalp, you let your eyelids flutter closed, prolonging the quiet embrace of comfort and ease.

Once more, guilt gnaws at you for succumbing so easily to the Ascendants' advances. Even though he forcefully brought you to climax in the hallway yesterday, pinning you against the wall, you were able to resist him for a longer time than how quickly you've given in to his embrace just now.

But you can feel something shifting in you, something wrong. Try as you might to fight it, ignore it, deny it, you're reaching the point of reluctantly admitting you are powerless to it. But that doesn't mean you're close to giving up. Once you can slip away from the Ascendant's side long enough, you can approach Elowen about using the sending stone to communicate your progress. Maybe even an update from the resistance on the "extra help" they promised you'd receive soon.

During your brief moments alone, you convinced her it was best for her to hold on to it. Malacai and Astarion were already constant shadows watching your every move. Yet every so often, he includes another "steward" to your company. But you've played the role of warily agreeable "consort" since the night he learned of your bhaalspawn blood.

Astarion continuously parades in one wedding planner after the other, and you reluctantly comply... kind of. Each time you suggest leaving the palace, it predictably spirals into an argument. But perhaps if you can persuade him to allow you to leave with the stewards trailing behind, he might become more inclined to acquiesce.

Until then, you have spent most of your days learning your own body language and manipulating it in a large, public setting to wordlessly communicate that you are, somehow, a superior breed of creature. You haven't been a fast learner, to put it mildly, but Malacai and Astarion were far from discouraged.

Gently opening your eyes and lifting your head, you meet his eyes, watching you. "What is it to be today? More dress design arguments? Wine tasting? Or simply soak in the warm embrace of sunlight?" You ask, a playful tone in your voice. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, a contented purr escaping his lips. "Mm, that last one is rather appealing," he admits, his voice filled with a lazy anticipation. "Especially if you're included."

"Do I have a choice?"

The slip of your tongue cleaves through the silence like a sharpened sword through a goblin. A storm begins to brew behind his eyes as they gently open, his previously serene facade breaking away like a cliff-face succumbing to the relentless sea. Silence slithers into the void left by your words, taut and thickening the air akin to that of a dense fog. "Obedience is a matter of choice, darling. It can be as easy or as arduous as you decide. And we've gone over a few times already how pleasurable it can be," he responds, his voice low and resonant.

As you rise, disentangling yourself from his body, he props himself up on his hands. "We have little on our agenda today, save for a jeweler whom I had Cirrus summon, and I have a meeting later in the evening. So if bathing in the sun after breakfast is on offer, I'm all pointy ears."

"Where? That indoor courtyard across from my room?" You ask curiously, tilting your head.

"No," he says with a disdainful tone, his face contorting in disgust as he visibly pictures the place in his mind. "That place is a ghastly eyesore." The words carry a hint of mockery as he sneers. "Perhaps, with your personal touch, you can breathe life into the space, hmm?" His smile emerges, accompanied by the sound of a gentle chuckle. Leaning in closer, he plants a soft, affectionate kiss on your cheek, leaving a lingering warmth. With that, he gracefully rises from the bed and heads towards his wardrobe.

The sight of pants, neatly folded and hanging in the closet, makes your heart sink. The varied colors and textures evoke a sense of longing within you. Oh, how much you miss the feeling of slipping into them, the smooth fabric against your skin. "Can I please wear pants again?" you ask, your voice tinged with yearning, unable to fight the pout that tugs at your face.

Astarion glances over his shoulder, the soft rustle of fabric filling the air as he effortlessly slips into his clothes. Today, his attire is elegantly understated, with tailored, dark grey pants that hug his legs and a sky blue shirt that accentuates his refined features. The ends of the sleeves and the collar are delicately ruffled, adding a touch of whimsy to his ensemble. "Darling," he replies, his voice gentle yet persuasive, "it's simply not fitting for a woman of your esteemed position." He turns to face you, his gaze filled with a captivating blend of sincerity and allure.

"But I'm the future wife of a godking, no? Who can say besides us what falls within and below my status?" This is possibly the first time you are using this nonsense for your benefit.

With a playful chuckle, he raises his eyebrows and surrenders by holding his hands up, saying, "As my lady wishes, so shall it be." As you open the wardrobe, he glances at the array of exquisite gowns, some purchased and others uniquely designed for you. "I'll have a tailor and seamstress called upon next, then. But will you consider that on some occasions it is better for you to wear one of these instead?" Arching an eyebrow, a subtle plea to you.

"Fine, as long as I at least get to wear pants consistently around the palace in private."

"That sounds eminently reasonable to me, pet." Astarion smiles, passing by you with a kiss to your head, leaving you to pick out a dress for the day.

Once the matter is settled, you follow closely behind him, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting as he leads you out of the lavishly adorned bedchamber and into the expansive hallways. As you walk, the scent of polished mahogany and the delicate fragrance of freshly cut roses fills the air, creating a harmonious blend of richness and beauty. Servants scurry about, their hurried footsteps echoing on the gleaming parquet floors.

Your eyes catch a group of them, their brows furrowed with effort, struggling to lift a massive ornate frame, shrouded in a pristine white silk sheet, off the wall. Their stifled grunts intermingle with the gentle rustling of the fabric. It's not the first time you've witnessed such a scene, but this time, you decide to halt your steps and observe. Curiosity piqued, you inquire, "Overhauling the decor, Astarion?"

He too takes notice of the scene. There is a flicker in his eyes, a fleeting moment of something indescribable that vanishes before you can fully comprehend it. "Something like that," he mutters, his gaze lingering on the servants for a moment before he turns to face you, a warm smile playing on his lips. Offering you his arm, silently telling you it's time to move on.

Despite the strong urge to ignore and walk past him, you reluctantly give in and hook your arm around his, feeling a mix of annoyance, resignation and a sense of begrudging obligation. And the two of you continue on your way to breakfast uneventfully.

__________________________________________________

Although smaller than expected, you'll agree that this balcony, adorned with delicate flowers, where he has had you lounging, has a pleasant charm to it. As you reluctantly let yourself unwind, you nestle beside him, feeling the softness of the plush bench, with its velvet upholstery, contrast his firm body. The gentle breeze caresses your skin. As you gaze upon the bustling harbor, the vibrant colors of the boats and the glimmering water paint a picturesque scene before you. The melodic songs of birds in the distance and the muted chatter of the city below blended together, creating a comforting lullaby.

He made sure you ate enough to satisfy your hunger, and now you feel your breakfast sitting in your stomach like a rock.

Your eyes peel away from the view to admire the vampire lord... god... His eyes, closed in peaceful contentment, reveal his trust in your presence. With his head slightly tilted toward the blue sky, he savors every ray of the sun, his face bathed in warm golden light. The vibrant hues of his pale skin, illuminated by the sunlight, create a captivating contrast. The scent of him enveloped you: bergamot, rosemary, and frost, intermingled with the crisp morning air. You're not sure how long it's been since he ascended, though he once mentioned that the previous you had passed away a century and a half ago. No matter how much time has passed since he secured his ability to walk in the sun, he still clearly adores basking in it.

The sight of him, so vulnerable and yet so strong, almost fills your heart with a comforting warmth for him. "Why do you need me if you have all this at your fingertips?" Your voice remains hushed, careful not to disturb the restful mood. Absentmindedly finding your hand on his chest, gently caressing it through the fabric of his shirt.

His warm hand settles gently over yours, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. As his captivating crimson eyes open, he gazes up at the vast expanse of the sky, fluffy white clouds drift lazily across the vibrant blue canvas. "All of this power, all of these riches, they are meaningless without you by my side. If it weren't for the hope of being reunited with her, I would have simply scorched Toril, reducing everything, even the stars above, to mere ashes that would cascade upon my skin."

You feel a slight twitch in your ears, and your brows furrow in confusion. "I'm not her, Astarion," you say, your voice carrying a soothing tone and preemptively comforting. "Just as you are not mine." You hope to harness the tender atmosphere around you, using it to comfort him and create a productive conversation.

Unexpectedly, a gentle smile spreads across his face and you can feel his arm slide around your waist, securing you in his embrace. "I know."

Suddenly, the peaceful moment is shattered when the double doors leading into the morning room swing open. A dwarven man in a tailored suit, with a hunched back and a noticeably small stature - even for his race, eagerly approaches as you both sit up.

"Ah, his Almighty Majesty, Godking Ancunín and his betrothed! An extraordinary honor to be in your exalted presence!" He exclaims and bows his head with a wide smile, his thin silver hair glistening in the sunlight.

Two servants and Malacai stand outside the doors. "I am Eldon Greybeard, of the illustrious house Greybeard! Humbly and graciously at your service!" he introduces himself. His voice projects confidence and carries a hint of excitement.

Beside Eldon, three young ladies stand, their faces flushed with exertion. They struggle to balance the weight of the large, cumbersome trunks in their delicate hands. Beads of sweat form on their brows as they try to maintain composure. Eldon's quick movement startles one of the girls, her wide eyes reflecting surprise and relief as he yanks a trunk from her delicate grasp.

Deciding to take that as your cue, you separate yourself from Astarion, who stands up from the bench with you. Effortlessly commanding the shadows lurking in the corners of the balcony, where the sunlight cannot reach. With a mesmerizing control over the darkness, he simply pivots the bench to face the doors. In a tender gesture, he takes your hand and interlocks your fingers, while the dwarf pops the latch to the trunk and flips it open, revealing its contents.

Proudly, the man spins the polished mahogany case around with a gentle creak to display its contents. Bracelets, glimmering in an array of colors and designs, catch the light, their intricate make and materials captivate the eye. The subtle scent of polished gems, worn leather and delicate metal. The Ascendant vampire, his crimson eyes locked with yours, as he guides you both to walk around and sit on the bench. Returning his gaze to the dwarf, his voice cut through the air with a dismissive tone. "We've no interest in these."

Eldon's eyes flit between the bracelets then you and forces a small chuckle. "Yes, of course, my apologies." Then he carefully closes the trunk and sets it aside. With a simple point at the other girl, she sets down the one she's carrying, and he swiftly opens it for you while Astarion releases your hand to slide his arm around your shoulders.

Arranged meticulously in orderly compartments, a multitude of rings sparkle and shimmer under the golden sunlight. "Judging by the ring size your messenger provided, each of these rings should fit the queen's finger flawlessly," Eldon proclaims with a hint of pride. A confident grin spreads across his face, as if reflecting the sparkle of the rings themselves.

While you were indifferent to viewing the selection from where the trunk sat on the ground, the vampire lord effortlessly beckoned one of his servants with a mere flick of his hand. Obediently, the servant grasped the trunk and positioned it before you both. The sight of the servant's pale, trembling hands gripping the trunk contrasted with the dark, weathered wood. The subtle creaking sound of the trunk being hoisted tickled the air. Allowing you to see every detail of each ring clearly and with ease.

You're half expecting him to pick one for you, but he remains eerily silent. His eyes glide over the options, examining them intently, but his hands remain motionless, refusing to reach out and touch any of them. "Astarion?" you inquire, curiosity tinged with a hint of confusion.

He meets your gaze, his piercing red eyes locking onto yours offer a blend of amusement and affection, and shakes his head slowly. "It's your ring, my treasure." The sound of his voice is soothing, melodious in your ear. With a gentle smile playing on his lips, he whispers, "Pick one, pick two, pick them all if it pleases you." His hand, warm and comforting, caresses your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

Awkwardly, you find yourself gazing back and forth, your eyes tracing the intricate details of each ring. Part of you still yearns for that black band, adorned with scattered silver and blue gems. The memory of it tugs at your heartstrings. But you know deep down that you could never tarnish the purity of that memory by wearing it as your engagement ring to him.

Chuckling, an impish glint dances in your eyes as you delicately raise the cool, smooth silver band, feeling its weight between your fingertips. The silver gleams in the light, captivating your attention, even though you typically have no interest in jewelry without practical or magical value. As you gaze at the ring, a hint of amusement tugs at the corners of your lips, finding it a tad on the nose to wear when you're engaged to a vampire lord, yet undeniably adorable.

"Really, darling?" With a playful tone, Astarion inquires, his voice laced with feigned annoyance as he gazes at the ring you're holding up, allowing him to see the intricate design—a round ruby, nestled within the claws of a bat. Its eyes, adorned with two smaller rubies, seem to shimmer with a mischievous gleam.

Refusing to look away, your eyes hold on to his as he playfully rolls his own in a mock display of exasperation. The sound of his chuckle sends a shiver down your spine, a delightful sensation that lingers, much as you hate to admit it. Finally, unable to resist, he takes the ring from your outstretched hand, examining every intricate detail for himself.

As he carefully scrutinizes the ring, the balcony becomes alive with a hushed energy. The air carries a palpable sense of anticipation, entwined with the delicate fragrance of roses in a nearby vase. Your heart dances with a blend of exhilaration and jitters while you anxiously await his final decision.

Astarion gently places the ring back into your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. With a slight nod, he signals for Eldon to continue showcasing his collection. As the dwarf busies himself, his back turned to you, a tall Elven man gracefully emerges from the shadowed corner of the balcony. You couldn't help but notice the way he stood, hands clasped behind his back, and the lingering scent of a peculiar scent that seemed to permeate the surroundings. "My sincerest apologies, my revered Godking," he says, his voice filled with deference. "I humbly request a moment of your undivided attention."

A look of irritation crossed the Ascendant's face as he rolled his eyes. "By the hells, Ballar," he muttered, his anger evident in his tone.

"It is regarding a certain pest problem."

His arm stiffens around your shoulders, causing a slight discomfort. An uneasy silence settles over the atmosphere. Then, following a tense pause, he starts to rise from his seat, his movements betraying his restlessness. Just as he starts to rise, you reach out and gently grasp his arm, bringing him to a sudden stop. "You know what, Astarion," you say, your voice wavering with hesitation and uncertainty, "I think I'd prefer some time alone to gather my thoughts. About what you said this morning, and moments earlier." You suggest, a silent plea echoing in your heart, hoping he understands the turmoil within you.

Reluctantly, he nods in agreement with an unenthusiastic expression. "Just" his subdued acquiescence barely audible amidst the stillness "don't stray for too long, pet." A hint of caution lacing his words,

Feeling relieved, you hand the ring back to him and gracefully get up. The soft rustle of your clothes mixes with the faint murmur of voices drifting up from the bustling city below. The fragrance of blooming flowers that adorn the nearby flowerbeds dances in the air, mingling with the crisp, refreshing breeze that caresses against your skin.

Excusing yourself from the ornate balcony, you feel a sense of liberation washing over you. Malacai moves to join you, but with a subtle wave of your hand, you motion for him to remain behind. Finally alone, you relish in the silence, craving the chance to collect your thoughts amidst the cacophony of emotions that swirl within you.

Unconcerned with Astarions' instructions, you meander purposelessly through the palace, your footsteps echoing through its grand halls, the intricate tapestries and glistening chandeliers catching your eye. Echoing through the wooden floor in the halls, the soft sounds of distant footsteps create a soothing environment.

As you walk, you can't help but flex your right ankle from time to time, checking the tightness of the shackle. Sure enough, it's still there. Honestly, what a surprise - surely it would have slid down your ankle and freed you already.

Your sarcasm, thankfully, hasn't diminished at all.

What else could it possibly be used for, you wonder? Preventing you from leaving without permission is a likely bet. But It can't just be a means of forcing you to remain seated.

Gods above, you wish you could explain the shackle in the scant messages you've been able to get through the sending stone. Its full utility remained elusive, yes, but you could sense it would pose a formidable obstacle to whatever plan your Star had devised to get you out of here.

You're not sure how exactly, but you find yourself in the alchemist's office if the myriad of variety of plants were your first guess, their leaves reaching out towards the sunlight that streamed through the dusty windows. Empty glass bottles glint in the soft light, lining the shelves in the office. The workbench is a chaotic mess, with scattered papers and spilled substances. A distinct earthy aroma, with undertones of herbs and potions, wafted through the air. Your fingertips brush against the rough surface of the tables as you navigate further into the room, a sense of curiosity guiding your steps.

One plant catches your eye that you don't believe you've ever seen before. A large, worn tome sits adjacent to it, left open with a stunning rendition drawn on the right page, while the left page refers to it as the Slumberthorn vine. The text explains that these despite its deceptively soft appearance; the leaves are razor sharp and laced with a powerful toxin that can swiftly induce sleep in even the strongest, heaviest of humanoids.

You ponder the idea of the toxin entering the bloodstream, but the text clarifies that the toxin's potency is such that it works directly on the skin. Skillful distillation of the toxin can yield a powerful anesthetic, but the process requires expertise. The idea sparks a faint curiosity, but you quickly dismiss it. You never cared much for poison or the like, even in the depths of your stunted memory.

Why let a poison have all the fun your hands could have?

A memory comes to mind from your first day here. When that woman threw the broach, narrowly missing your face and leaving a small, shallow cut on your cheek. How quickly the Ascendant materialized in the room. Perhaps it was the distinct fragrance of your blood that permeated the air, reaching him from a considerable distance. Or maybe...

You lowered your gaze to your ankle, fixating on the shimmering silver and gold hues of the small band that smoothly encircled your skin. It had become all too familiar, the constant, subtle, gentle weight of it pressing against you, that you couldn't escape. If he possesses some kind of magical connection to the band, enabling him to track your every move, this experiment might just be worth a try. Escaping from the confines of the palace was your only chance at freedom. Perhaps this... precarious experiment would prove worthwhile in the end.

Undoubtedly one of the most foolish choices you could make, and that's saying a lot. With a careless gesture, you grab the book, shutting it with a resounding thud. Without purpose or direction, you fling it nonchalantly over your shoulder; the book flying through the room before landing elsewhere with a soft thump. And before doubt can creep in or hesitation can take hold, you gingerly press your finger against the leaf, feeling its soft and smooth surface. Instantly, you feel the minuscule razor-sharp barbs beneath your fingertip, poised to pierce your skin, yet you keep your hand steady.

Instinctively, you pull your hand back as the room abruptly plunges into darkness, leaving you disoriented. The world around you begins to spin, causing a whirlwind of blurred images. Struggling to maintain your balance, you take a cautious step back, the faint echo of your racing heartbeat fills your ears. Suddenly, a wave of weakness engulfs your body, causing your leg to buckle beneath you before giving out. With a desperate attempt to stay upright, your other leg follows suit, and you're vaguely aware of falling onto your side.

You shift onto your side, nestled in his frigid arms, glimpsing your vampire lover behind you in the bed. The dimly lit bedroom in the elfsong tavern envelops you both, shadows dancing on the walls. A symphony of scents dances through the air. The lingering scent of aged wood and a subtle hint of candle wax, which mingles harmoniously with the soothing aroma of bergamot, rosemary, and a gentle whisper of aged brandy that is unmistakably him.

You aren't surprised when his sharp red eyes lock with yours, a silent understanding passing between you. The blankets wrap around both of you, cocooning you in their comforting embrace. Your legs intertwine with his, creating an intimate tangle beneath the covers. With tenderness, you lift your hand, feeling the coolness of his cheek as your touch meets his pale skin. "We'll get through this, my love..." you whisper, your voice a gentle melody in the quiet night.

His eyes flutter closed as your fingertips gently glide over his chiseled, smooth chest, accompanied by the soft sound of his contented sigh. "I know, my star..." he murmurs, his words barely audible, the sound blending with the gentle rhythm of your breathing. His eyes, filled with unwavering resolve, find yours once more, a silent promise reflected within their depths... and...

Suddenly, your body jolts forward, disoriented as you awaken. The cold, hard floor beneath you goes unnoticed in the initial moments, your vision still blurred. As you struggle to regain your senses, a distinct aroma of musty old books and damp earth fills the air. Gradually, as the dimly lit room gradually comes into focus, your groggy mind registers the presence of the vampire ascendant kneeling beside you, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders, shaking you awake. Through the haze, you hear their gasp, a combination of concern and surprise. "Hells, Tav, what's gotten into you?" their voice echoes in your ears as they pull your dazed body into their strong, crushing embrace.

You refuse to let on the dream you had, though you risk playing it over and over again in your mind. If you had to choose between living every day of the rest of your life with this... mockery of the man you love. Or relive that night before Cazador over and over with the real Astarion...

Well... at least you answered one question.

...Slumberthorn vine toxin doesn't need to break skin to be effective.

____________________________________________________________________________

"Remember, you are merely an observer..." He reminds you for the millionth time and deliberately ignores as your eyes roll again, though you do motion to him that your lips are sealed.

Upon returning to the balcony with him, the jeweler was dismissed until a more suitable time. But you weren't in any mood to play the obedient "consort" any longer, and you adamantly refused to put on the ring, which, of course, ignited yet another heated argument.

Needless to say, you were itching for the day to conclude. Why did you even need an engagement ring when everyone knew by now who you were? More like what you were.

You both enter the sitting room without acknowledging the two guards standing watch outside, their presence nothing more than an afterthought. But you still freeze in place when you step through the doors and enter. Astarion teases - his mischievous voice fills the air and sends a thrill down your spine as he playfully remarks, "It's not the first time the staff have cleaned viscera, my sweet." You stand there, completely awestruck by the sight in front of you. The room, once a gruesome mess, now gleams with pristine cleanliness, not a trace of blood or severed fingers left behind.

Your eyes were so fixated on the transformation that you failed to notice the presence of two figures standing near the couch and table, their dark robes flowing and white masks concealing their identities. As you take in the familiar attire, memories flood your mind, reminding you of a certain friend and the House of Grief.

You glance at Astarion and realize he is purposefully keeping you behind him. Though you sense no danger, it's as if he's merely sending a message. "And what news do my kingdom's resident Sharrans bring? Progress on the Unamina?" He inquires as he slowly crosses the room, with you close behind.

One of them locks their arms behind their back. "Indeed. The mother superior herself departed some time ago in search of the necessary components and sent word of her success. Now all that remains is a suitable location." They spoke confidently, their partner extending their gloved hand and offering a wooden case for protecting a scroll.

Astarion's eyes light with an expression you can't read and don't like. His grin proudly displaying his fangs as he, a tad too quickly, accepts the scroll case into his hands. "Wonderful! And what of her return? How soon should I have the carpet rolled out?" He chuckled, tucking the case under his arm closest to you. This wooden case was far from ordinary; it possessed an air of magic, with its shimmering, decorative adornments. Somehow sinister and foreboding in nature...

"Soon. Two days, perhaps three." The other replied, clasping their hands in front of them. "It was far from simple to procure the scroll. The Nightsinger will expect adequate repayment from you, Godking Ancunín, for utilizing her faithful in such a way."

"It is only because of my grace that her church thrives in my kingdom. The least she could do was loan me her toys for this little treasure hunt of mine." He mutters, rapidly losing interest in the Sharrans as he lifts and studies the scroll case in the chandelier's light above his head.

You could feel their eyes studying you from behind their creepy white masks, if only for a moment. "The Mo—"

Astarion tightly tucks the case under his arm again, his piercing glare locks onto the pair. "Tell her," he commands, his voice commanding yet smooth, "to come straight to the palace upon her arrival. I'll ensure preparations are made that she receives a worthy welcome." He gracefully pivots on his feet, the sound of his expensive shoes clicking against the polished wooden floor. "Our business here is concluded," he declares with authority. "Please see yourselves out." With a snap of his fingers, the two guards outside stride inside, seemingly already aware of their orders.

Like you have all day, you shadow Astarion, but not before you steal a quick glance over your shoulder at the two Sharrans. Of course, you have a myriad of questions. What were they doing finding... whatever that scroll is? Why would the Sharrans and the Ascendant work together at all? Could Viconia still be alive and in charge of the Baldur's Gate cloister? Did your alternate self help this world's Shadowheart kill that bitch?

Shadowheart... you miss her terribly. You miss all of your companions, but you formed a deep bond with the cleric.

It's been a century and a half since the other you died, so who knows how long it's been since the Absolute crisis. You vaguely recall that Halsin has also passed in this world, but you can't remember how exactly you know that. Unless Wyll and Gale found means of prolonging their human lifespans, they've likely passed on. Same for Karlach and her engine, and Lae'zel - assuming your favorite Gith didn't return to the Astral Plane. Shadowheart was about fifty years old when you met her. On average, half-elves can live for about a hundred and fifty to two hundred years. If, and it's a significant if, she's still alive, she would be in the twilight years of her life. Assuming assassins or the like haven't taken her out.

Gods, this is so depressing...

The sound of the door closing echoes in the room, snapping you back to the present moment. You realize you're back in Astarion's bedchamber. Where you've been sleeping since the night he learned of your urges.

He carefully placed the case on a dresser that was pressed against the wall, creating a soft thump. He fumbled through his pants pocket to retrieve the small box and extended the ring toward you. You turn away, arms crossed, and he lets out a deep, exasperated sigh. "What do I need to do to sway you into wearing it?" Astarion asks, vexed by your behavior.

Nothing. There is absolutely no chance that I will ever wear it - is what you want to say. That you picked one out at all means nothing. It was just a cute ring...

Frustration boils within you, leading you to flail your arms aimlessly for a brief moment as you grapple with your inner turmoil. What you want to say and what would make sense are in opposition. "You... you never even took the time to propose to me properly!" you scoff, glancing away and tightly crossing your arms once more.

"Properly?" He inquires, his tone laced with bewilderment rather than frustration, as he cocks an eyebrow.

"Yes... Unless you consider forcefully taking me against my will as your bizarre idea of a romantic gesture..." You have absolutely no clue what is coming out of your mouth. Why are you acting like this?

Astarion's eyes twinkled with amusement as his lips curled into a smile filled with... happiness, then carefully placed the ring on the dresser next to the scroll case. "Very well. Perhaps I'll organize something of that nature while you're away tomorrow."

Now it's your turn to be puzzled. He can't possibly mean what you think he means... "Apart from your momentary lapse of judgement today, I have been pleased to see improvements in your behavior, and I am inclined to recognize and reward your growth. We can go over the particulars after you've rested." He explains with a calm and patient demeanor, taking measured steps towards you. Shrugging off his shirt and tossing it carelessly to the floor.

His feather-light touch delicately brushes against your cheek, sending a tingling sensation through your skin. His slender fingers leisurely trace a path downwards, their gentle caress leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Eventually, they settle beneath your chin, cradling it affectionately. Tenderly, he lifts it slowly, bringing your lips closer to his, the minuscule distance between you teasingly suspended.

"You wouldn't dare run from your home - would you, my queen?" he murmurs, his voice a velvety purr that resonates deeply within you. You shiver at his words... the accusation they carry. Toying with you, he continues. "That would be very foolish, wouldn't it, pet? You are mine. Completely and unequivocally. There is not a rock in all of Toril you could hide under that I would not find you, darling." His voice is dripping with a honeyed sweetness that conceals an underlying threat.

Then he closes the miniscule distance between your lips. Sealing his words with a gentle, sweet kiss. Amidst the tender exchange, you manage to blurt out, "What's in the case?" Each word escapes between the fleeting kisses.

Astarion's lips curl into a smug smile, their warmth grazing against yours, creating a soft and lingering touch, accompanied by the faint sound of his satisfied sigh that tickles your senses. With a delicate gesture, his fingers caress your skin, gently tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. An arm encircles your waist, creating a tender embrace that simultaneously holds a hint of possessiveness. As he pulls you against him, you can feel the strength in his touch, both gentle and forceful and it sends a shiver down your spine. Then, he whispers, his voice laced with determination, promising, "The means to ensure nothing can ever take you from me."

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

Batstarion ring? Sad dream? A potential way to cure your bhaalspawn-ery? Sharrans? Mysterious scrolls?

A lot to chew on this chapter.

…So previous Tav was NOT a Dark Urge… Hm.