#neglecting sleep is not a choice i make to feel this way because i do get confused and overwhelmed more easily

[cubot]

[drysauce]

uni definitely isn't for me but everything else isn't for me either so i have to somehow bear with it i guess

[yanmuffins]

how are we feeling about a yandere! platonic! batfamily x neglected! vampire! reader with some heavy v*mpire t*e m*squer*de influece in honor of halloween season?? here's my cringefail concept that i might turn into a fic.

tw: neglect mention, non-con biting, non-con turning since reader isn't given a choice in being a vamp.

you're bruce's firstborn child who's lived in the manor for most of your life, with alfred being your primary caretaker and bruce not giving you much thought throughout your childhood - you're not fit to be robin (though he tried), you're not in the streets of gotham in danger or causing trouble - you're a well-behaved child who never gets in the way and never asks for too much. you understand when he breaks promises, when alfred shows up to special events in his stead because he's too busy with work, too busy being batman, too busy caring for troubled children who need his attention more than you do.

even as you see him make time for his other children, for his romantic affairs - even as the relationships you build with your siblings never goes beyond shallow small-talk and awkward silences, you understand. they have their own lives to worry about, their own issues, so many things they can bond over with each other but not with you. you're not a robin, you're not a vigilante, you're not athetically inclined and even as you do your best to be accomodating and warm, you can never get past their walls.

even when damian arrives and gets more familial bonding with bruce than you ever had, you lower your head and you walk away. you take his berating with a condescending smile and a disappointed sigh that makes him so irrationally angry, because he's a troubled child and he doesn't know any better.

you're ordinary, boring in comparison to them. you fade into the background with and without effort. you're just... easy to forget about. you don't require special care, or guidance, you don't go overboard trying to beat the living shit out of criminals like jason, you don't try to sneak out of the manor like damian. you don't disappoint. you don't impress. you're just... there. when bruce checks up on you, there's a signature smile you've perfected over the years you give him, telling him you're perfectly fine.

and you grow up. you grow distant. a bit of resentment, but you keep it locked deep within your heart. you are a student in gotham university, and you get intern for a big-shot from los angeles who just moved to gotham to expand their business. they shower you with praises and attention, taking you all sorts of places, introducing you to all sorts of people. because your father hid you from the public eye for most your life, the fact you're a wayne goes mostly unnoticed.

there's just one strange detail: it's a full-on night-shift. ironic, you concede, that you couldn't escape the nights of gotham by being a civilian. your family notices it, too: you don't dress like you used to, like you prefer to, there's a waver in your usually composed steps, bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep, an apparent mind-fog whenever someone asks you a question, a certain distance in your gaze. you sleep the days away, and the amount of times they've seen you entering and leaving less-than-ideal places (that one nightclub they have noticed suspicious activity on? just what are you doing there?) for a sheltered young adult to be during their patrols is starting to become concerning.

but you swear it's fine. it's all fine. you're fine. stop meddling.

and then there's the night - before any of the batsiblings start to really get a grip on what's going on with you, before bruce can give you a stern lecture on how you're exposing yourself to danger and how he's so disappointed and didn't expect this from you and force you to quit your job and just go back to how you were before - when that eccentric bigshot you're working for brings you to the VIP room at the nightclub, says you have potential, babbles on and on about how far you're gonna go, making you bubble inside with pride and happiness at finally being fawned over for a change.

and then they kill you.

draining you of all your blood, feeding you a bit of theirs before locking you up in a room where you'll be provided with proper refreshments to keep your hunger at bay until you've become a fully-embraced fledgling ready to learn the ins and outs of your new... unlife. you are a wayne, firstborn child of gotham's local billionaire, the camarilla's golden ticket to taking over gotham. they all expect much of you.

meanwhile, the text in alfred's phone says you'll be gone for a while. business trip to paris, your first ever, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity a rich girl with ample privilege and access to private jets couldn't possibly refuse. he doesn't believe it for a second, not even when you call to assure everything is just fine. he knows you're not, everyone knows you're not. there's a tracer in your phone and guess what, you're not in paris.

there is no comeuppance for your sire when the batfamily breaks you out of captivity, as they are long gone by the time the incident is ruled out as a bunch of goons targeting the wayne family for money (nevermind no ransom was ever requested). they'll come back for you, they swear, plans just got... delayed by this preposterous man wearing a bat-suit. until then, do as they taught you, keep yourself fed, don't break the masquerade.

but your newfound freedom lasts exactly a car ride to the wayne manor before you're prohibited from leaving the house for the foreseeable future. when the hunger comes, you can either tell them what happened or let yourself loose with a risk of hurting someone. when the sun shines through the windows and burns your skin, you won't be able to hide it anymore. the choice between your now overbearing family, still unsure how to help you, and the tutelage of your sire, being subjected to all the plans they have for you. the vampires are slowly crawling their way into gotham, and it's only a matter of time before batman becomes a problem.

you remember looking up at the bat signal shining in the dark skies of gotham city and feel a pang of relief in your chest, knowing it had nothing to do with you. now it just makes you feel anxious.

it's ironic, you concede, that you couldn't escape the nights of gotham by being a civilian.

[babeyun]

falling alone ✩ l.hs [teaser two]

✩ series m.list | taglist form ✩ synopsis: cold cases were heeseung’s specialty, and he cracked every single one. cold hearts were your specialty, and you have yet to make a single chip in your husband’s. ✩ genre: established relationship au | hurt-comfort ✩ pairing: lieutenant!lhs x housewife!reader ✩ word count: 1.4k | [full fic: tbd] ✩ rating: 18+. minors dni. ✩ warnings: a little more pining between husband!hee & wife!reader, a bit of outsider help. nothing explicit ✩ author's note: hello everyone! i just wanted to let you all know that i am trying my best to get this fic out before the end of the year (and if i don't, i do go on winter break from uni in early december! so we can expect a few fics in that time.) this being said, i will add a taglist link here as well as the series masterlist because i cannot for the life of me keep up with urls at the moment. the people tagged below have already been added to said taglist, but if you wanna jump on and don't see yourself tagged, please fill out the form linked above! thanks!

Heeseung knows that Dr. Bahng told him to leave work at work. However, Dr. Bahng said nothing about bringing home to work. He said nothing about thinking about you at work, or missing you, or daydreaming about you instead of analyzing the reports that a pair of rookies messed up. He also said nothing about reading articles by some sketchy romance columnist on how to keep your relationship alive, which is exactly what Heeseung was scrolling through right now. 

There are things in a relationship that must always be shared in order to avoid, or resolve conflict. How the other person is making you feel, how you are making them feel, and how to tackle both negative checklists properly. It is key to always remember that it must be you and your partner against the problem, not you and your partner against each other.

You make Heeseung feel…alive. You make him feel loved, cherished, and even at some bizarre times, worshiped. You make him appreciate waking up at the ass crack of dawn, your sleeping face relaxed as he peppers kisses across your warm skin – something he's thankful never manages to wake you up, but it adds to all the adoration he holds in his heart for you.

How does he make you feel? Dejected, neglected, rejected. Pushed aside for the true love of his life – work. You never bring it up unless he asks. You never brought it up until last July, when he was slumped in his office chair after drinking half a bottle of sherry whiskey, listening to music and thinking about yet another dead end that deterred him from finding Soyoung. You had approached him with a gentle gaze, a soft touch to his shoulder and asking about taking a shower together. You never questioned him, you never pressured him, you never tried to make him something you assumed he just wasn't – an attentive, doting husband.

And he remembers how he asked you, too. He remembers spinning around in his chair, asking you if he was everything you'd ever wanted. Asking you if he was living up to your expectations, as a husband, as a life partner, as a friend, even.

And he remembers the way you sighed carefully before perching on his desk. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and I'm sure you'll continue to grow and be even more deserving of the love I hold for you." You had smiled, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Nothing we can't work through, you know? If I was given a choice in another life, another world – I'd still choose you."

He will never forget it, and he can still feel the warmth of your lips against his as you led him to the bathroom. He can still feel the ache of your love on his skin from the way you held him under the running water, quietly basking in his presence as the mint of your shampoo filled his nose. Nothing is as special to him as you are. 

There are things that should routinely be shared in order to maintain a homeostasis of the calendar. Asking how their day was, if you have any ideas for dinner tonight, or if you'd like to do something this weekend to celebrate the mundane. It shouldn't be difficult to establish a routine with your partner, if you are in tune with them. A kiss goodbye in the morning, a warm embrace in the evenings. A shared meal, a shared bath, a shared bed. 

Heeseung can't remember the last time he fully checked in with you – you always have something to do. You always attempt new creative projects, and his fingers toy with the fabric of his slacks as he remembers that you hand stitched them. He thinks about how you waited for him all night yesterday, and the disappointment you must have felt when he arrived late. He thinks about how he just doesn't make time to tackle the problem that you two are constantly glossing over by being intimate – he knows you don't feel loved. 

He didn't ask you about your day yesterday, or the day before, or last week. He didn't ask you if you were sewing anything new, learning any new pieces on the piano collecting dust in the living room. He hasn't asked about your mother, but at least he knows you don't like to talk about her. 

Heeseung hasn't asked you a single thing about yourself, or your life, and he doesn't know how long it's been. Even last night, your eyes were focused entirely on him – the way his lips twitched when you said you liked the wine he chose, the way he pulled your leg over his in the booth you were sharing. You asked him about work, and he just shook his head as he pointed out the new menu items. 

You love him so selflessly.

Something that works for my partner and I is parallel play. We aren't necessarily doing something together, but we are present in the same room and doing our own thing. Knowing that he is there, and that if I need him, I can reach for him, adds a comfort to our relationship. Aside from this, we also come together every two weeks and address any issues we may be experiencing – both in our relationship and our individual lives. We resolve the issues about us together, and advise the other on our personal issues. Balance!

You do this a lot. If Heeseung is home, you'll wander to wherever he is and sit down where you can, and quietly go about your business. Sometimes it's a new cross-stitch, sometimes it's just putting a headphone in and listening to music. Sometimes you're giving yourself a pedicure, sometimes you're just sitting there staring at his corkboard of paraphernalia while matching your breathing to his. It was subtle, something you thought he'd never notice.

He sighs, exiting out of the tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. Tugging it on, he uses one hand to log out of his computer when he hears three knocks on the door. A lightness of the rapping knuckles similar to yours…and your smiling face appears as you crack open the door. "Surprise?" He hates that he can't bite back his smile, a few of his fellow officers wide-eyed at his expression. He nods silently, and you extend your hand for him when you hear his coworkers whispering about you. With a dejected look, you tuck your hand back into the pocket of your jeans, "Guess we don't want them gossiping, right?" "Right." He mumbles, his own hand twitching around the doorknob as he pulls it shut behind him. He wants to reach for you, embrace the warmth you bring, show you off to the people he often calls his friends. Sunghoon catches his eye, a quizzical look on his face before shaking his head. 

Heeseung reaches for you, but you've already made your way towards the door. Your smile has lessened as you open the door, holding it for him. "How was work?" You ask as he joins you in the cool air, and he wastes no time wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in close, his nose buried in your hair. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, instead leaning back to try and meet his eyes. "Hee?" "Don't ask me about work." He mutters, before pressing his lips to yours softly. You let out a noise of surprise, but you can't melt into his touch before he pulls away. "I hate talking about work, let's talk about you. Over lunch." He takes your hand in his, gently pulling you to his side as he makes his way to the car. He doesn't see yours in the parking lot, so he only assumes you got a rideshare before you clear your throat. "Are you okay?" The words are slightly jumbled as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you, helping you step in. "Hm? Why do you ask?"

"Well…you're actually out of the office. And you want to go to lunch…and you don't want to talk about work?" Your voice is meek, and it makes his chest ache as he reaches to buckle your seatbelt in for you. "I just want to spend time with you. Shall we?" His smile is a little forced, until he sees the soft gloss of embarrassment over your eyes. "Okay."

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

TAGLIST [those in red could not be tagged] @thesassy-mia @starfallia @ramenoil @hoonieversies @wintabite @shnnzsworld @eneiyri @jjongsha @ilovejungwonandhaechan @oopshee @capri-cuntz @petalsofink @teddybeartaetae @chocminteu @moon0fthenight @delvziion @heeseungthel0ml @bbyjw @marimariiiiiiii @thenastone

[skzstoryvault]

Relax! Take it easy <3 (Hyunjin, a bit spicy)

F! Reader x boyfriend Hyunjin

very short read

one-shot

Hyunjin is sick and exhausted and needs a bit of persuasion to allow himself some time to recover

Hyunjin is also super cute and very whipped for his girl

This story contains some lazy, sleepy sex

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real persons depicted here. They all deserve the world.

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

Hyunjin has been having a bad luck streak lately. First, his voice began to fail him, then his joints and muscles started acting up. He’s had his wisdom teeth extracted and went to a fan event right after and now? Now he has a bad shoulder that hurts with every movement he makes. It comes and goes, the pain, and his doctors don’t know what the cause is or how to treat it just yet.

“Jinnie, you are exhausted, that’s why it feels like you are falling apart. You need to take it easy for a bit. Get a few days of back-to-back rest and good sleep so your body can have the chance to recover...” You tell him, watching him sit curled up miserably at the top of your bed and putting his favorite blanket of yours around his shoulders. “I can’t, Stay will mind.” 

“I’m a Stay too and I say I want you happy and recharged, and if I had a choice, I’d rather not see you for a while than see you crumble on stage or dance with tears of pain in your eyes.” “You just say that because you love me.” “Yes! As would anyone who knows you. Jinnie, please. Please rest.” “But Channie-hyung will be upset, and so will Scheduling.” “I’ll make the calls, okay?” “We don’t have anything for Friday and Saturday, maybe I can rest then?”

“I will still call, so they don’t see the free slots and book you anyway.” “Thank you.” Hyunjin says, looking wretched and small from his blanket cocoon. “You know I love you? You care so much, and look after me so well.” “I love you too, Jinnie. A lot-lot, you know?” You give back, leaning in to smooth the hair from his forehead and kiss the clammy skin. On the phone, Chan is, of course, understanding and concerned. The people in Scheduling are a bit more neurotic about the news, but even they are aware that Hyunjin is no good to them in his current state. 

When you return to your boyfriend’s side, he is napping with his nose buried into the blanket you gave him. You approach to tuck him in more securely, and he sleepily reaches for you. 

“Don’t go, please.” His voice comes out as a creaky, pitiful whisper. 

You relent immediately and lie down next to him. He sleepily rearranges himself around you and spreads the blanket over both of you. Not a minute passes before he takes his nose out of the blanket and buries it in the skin at the side of your neck, moving it up and down and side to side, managing to tickle you. “Hey now, rest first. We can horse around later.” You gently chide, running a hand through his hair and scritching his scalp to help him relax. He huffs into your shoulder in protest, but behaves. It’s evening when you wake up, having fallen asleep next to Hyunjin as well. The first thing you become aware of is how hard he is under the thigh you have flung over him. The second is that he’s at least partially awake and covertly rubbing himself against your thigh, holding it in place with one of his hands. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh almost desperately, like he’s afraid you will turn to smoke and escape him if he loosens his hold the slightest bit.

He has so much on his plate, your baby. He is trying to please so many people and he neglects himself so much. So him wanting to get off even while still mostly asleep, and wanting to use you to help, softens you to the extreme.

“Baby? Are you with me? How are you feeling?” You ask, lifting your head so you can start peppering sloppy kisses to his lips and around, moving on to nibble on his jaw and neck. 

“Sleepy… and hard.” He says, pouting. “Wanna hit.” “So why don’t you? I’m right here. You can just… “ “Mhhh yes, yes. Thank you.” He whispers. “‘m lazy.” 

“Shhh, I know. Let me.” You make quick work of his and your underwear, lying back down half on top of him and nuzzling the warm skin of his neck before seeking his lips for a kiss. Your hair falls between you like a curtain, sheltering you from the rest of the world and you blindly, but with sure moves, take him inside you, hissing at the way his cock spreading you open feels. It never gets old - that first breach, the shock to your senses. This time it’s accompanied by a scarily intense spasm of your womb, and that’s undiluted arousal and anticipation on your part as you take all of him in. “Awh, fuck. So deep.” Hyunjin’s voice rings strained. “So… tight. It’s always like the first time with you.” 

Another spasm deep inside you, stronger this time, makes you scrunch your features  - it’s the same part of you that’s trying to kill you once a month, letting you know you’re aroused off your tits and giving you a spasm of pleasure so intense it nearly swings into pain, making your features contort from how intense it feels. This has nothing to do with how big Hyunjin is inside you or how harsh his thrusts are. It’s just a deeply human, almost petty satisfaction at feeling how good he’s making you feel and that he and not someone else is giving you this much pleasure. 

“What was that? Did… did I hurt you? Angle change?” He asks, immediately concerned for you although just seconds ago he was lost to his own enjoyment, eyes closed and head pushed back into the pillow. 

“No, no, keep going, it’s just… sometimes some other organs join in my feeling good.”

Hyunjin gasps and indulges your request. You push yourself up with your hands on his t-shirt covered chest, sighing at the change of angle adding yet another layer of sensation. But you don’t sit up straddling him all the way, needing the closeness to get the friction against your clit. “Oh fuck… hell, no!” Hyunjin panics, looking at you apologetically. “I’m- I’m g-g-go… aghhh, fuck-” His losing his composure to how good it feels to be inside you, fucking you, also throws you over the edge. You lean back down, wanting to kiss his moans and unhinged whines into yourself, feeling like a succubus thriving off the stolen pleasure of your willing victim. 

All through his high, he keeps his eyes on you, watching you in this absolutely rapt way, reaching up and touching your lips in awe, caressing your cheek, then tracing the gentle contours of your boobs through the fabric of your shirt. 

“How are you real? How are you mine?” He whispers, his voice still hoarse and betraying how gone he is. “And you let me come inside you… I feel like I’m desecrating a temple every time.” 

You smile, liking how awed his little ramblings get when his mind is completely switched off. 

“I’m not complaining. But if it makes you feel better, you can think you’re an ancient Greek. They used to bring erm... seeds as offerings for their goddess of the harvest.” “I want to give you something you can actually use!” Hyunjin says, smiling like the best inspiration ever just struck him. “Soon as I feel better and get up from here… I’ll make you a nice kimchi with no fish guts… and the fattest kimbap roll you’ve ever seen, with the yummiest filling. Maybe even some hotteok too, if I manage. Mhmmmmm. You will have the happiest belly in all of Seoul.” You laugh softly. He’s slipping into a restful sleep, and even now, all he’s thinking of is how he can please you more. “Oh you’re on, mister. Don’t think I won’t hold you to that… but for now, just focus on feeling better.” 

[littlebumblebeesstuff]

Request: heyy idk if you write for bucky barnes but if you do could you do a bucky x little reader who's never had someone who actually cared for her? like she never had a cg or her parents always neglected her so she keeps feeling like shes a burden to Bucky?

For @crazyforbarnes - I hope you enjoy!

Notes: GN!Reader, fluff, angst, mentions of trust issues and neglect

Not alone anymore

Work. Home. Eat. Sleep.

Work. Home. Eat. Sleep.

Work. Home. Eat. Sleep.

The repetitive routine was long and hard but you just kept pushing through. You had always had to work hard and you had no choice but to work in the little downtown cafe to pay rent and bills.

Of course Bucky had tried to encourage you to move in with him, but you were so ingrained into your own personal survival mode that you kept refusing.

The only escape you had was stepping into your little apartment, or into Bucky's floor in the Tower and letting yourself regress.

Unfortunately, there was a difference between regressing alone and with Bucky.

When alone you could be as little as 3, and you had the small spare room as your little space so that you wouldn't hurt yourself.

With Bucky, you never got younger than 6/7.

To say you had parental issues was an overstatement. Born the 7th child of a family that couldn't care for themselves you were often neglected and left to look after yourself.

So when Bucky stepped into his place as your dada, you couldn't stop yourself from still trying to be independent.

It was finally the weekend and you were staying with Bucky in the Tower. He was in the kitchen cooking as you finished up some paperwork.

You had been pushing away your regression for the whole week, under pressure to finish this project but now you were just overwhelmed, over tired, hungry, and frustrated.

All too big for your little brain to handle at the moment.

Bucky had a 6th sense about your regression. He knew that you were holding back but he always let you do what you wanted to do so that he could build that trust. He knew that you struggled to let anyone in and to let yourself be loved, but he hated seeing how hard you worked yourself because you believed that was the only way you would be worthy of attention and praise.

With a dish towel slung over his shoulder he walked up behind you where you were working at the dining table and gently starts to rub your shoulders, hoping to give you a little nudge towards regressing.

"Hiya pumpkin, dinner is almost ready. How about we get you into some comfies, huh?"

His voice was a soft rumble, tugging at that loose thread in your head in hopes that it would all unravel.

"Can't da-Bucky, gotta finish 'dis" Your own words were soft and slurred as you did feel yourself slipping.

The appeal of getting into comfy pjs and cuddling your dada while a movie played was slowly starting to take over the urge to finish the project.

"Hmmm.... Pumpkin, it's not your job to finish all this. You can go in on Monday and your team can help you. You need to rest too. You deserve it"

You shook your head, doubling down on your work. Your stubbornness drew a sigh from Bucky who gently took the pencil from you and pulled the chair away from the desk so you couldn't keep working.

He squatted down, cool metal hand cupping your cheek as he guides you to look at him.

"Baby, it's time to stop. No more working tonight, how about we-"

"But I have to finish dis!" You normally would never interrupt Bucky, but right now you were on the verge of regressing and also your exhaustion and frustration was starting to manifest itself as a temper tantrum.

Rather than getting frustrated, Bucky held your hands in his, attempting to calm you down a little bit.

"Pumpkin... can you tell me why you don't want me to look after you and help you regress? Am I doing something wrong?"

Bucky felt confused. He worked so hard to make you feel safe and comfortable when you regressed, but it was as if you didn't trust him.

"I- I, you not doing something wrong.." Your speech started to slip more and more, your own frustrations becoming too difficult to explain.

"I just never had a daddy or mummy.... always jus' me"

You couldn't bring yourself to look at Bucky as you spoke, instead deciding to look at your feet.

Bucky felt his heart break at your words. It wasn't that you didn't trust him- you simply didn't know how to let yourself be little and let someone look after you.

"Ok..... ok. Pumpkin, how about tonight we try something different, hmm? How about dada makes all the big decisions and you can just relax"

Bucky hoped that by getting you to agree to let him make decisions that you would let yourself properly regress without your survival instincts kicking in.

You take a moment to think about it.... it did sound nice to have dada making all the big decisions...

Finally you nod and Bucky breaks out into a big smile, kissing your forehead.

"That's dada's brave lil' pumpkin! Now, let's get you into some comfies"

Scooping you up into his arms, Bucky walks into his room, all the while pressing kisses over your cheeks, forehead, and nose.

By your little giggles, he was already very aware that you had regressed younger than you ever had before with him.

However, when you first brought up age regression he had done so much research and had bought a load of different things for different ages.

Wanting to give you the best experience as he could, he kept you on his hip as he dug around in his drawers for a duck print onesie that he had always wanted to use.

Once he had it, he sat you on the bed and helped you get changed.

"Aaand there goes one sock! And two socks! Now we gotta lift those little arms up to take your top off- that's it, you are doing so good Pumpkin!"

Soon you were in the fluffy duck print onesie, with fluffy socks in to protect your feet from the cold tiles of the floor.

Before leaving the room, he snuck a paci into his pocket.

Bucky took you through to the living room, setting you down on the massive sofa and making sure that you were propped up by pillows. He asked Jarvis to put on Bluey for you while he went and sorted dinner.

He could still see you from the open plan kitchen as he put the meal that he had originally prepared in the fridge and instead made you a plate of chicken nuggets, apple slices, cheese cubes, carrots and some goldfish crackers.

You were really engrossed in the cartoon that Bucky had to sit you on his lap and hand fed you your food.

He praised you for every bite and kissed your cheeks when you finished everything.

It felt so natural to be looking after you like this. You let yourself relax and you were so desperate for it that you couldn't even try to look after yourself.

Soon you were full and snuggled up on Buckys lap, staring to doze off as your day of big emotions caught up with you. Looking down to check up on you, Bucky smiled as he sees that you have put your thumb in your mouth as you self soothe.

"Oh baby, let's not put our fingers in our mouth- look, dada has a paci for you"

He gently pulls your thumb out of your mouth, aware that you are half asleep and eases the paci in to replace it.

Your eyes slip shut as you sook on the paci, your body finally giving in and letting you drift off to dreamland.

Bucky waits for a couple of minutes, to make sure he doesn't disturb you, before slowly standing up and carrying you to bed.

He asks Jarvis to turn everything off as he tucks you into bed before quickly changing into his own pyjama pants and laying in bed, tucking you into his chest.

Sometimes you will have bad days, ones where you feel like you have to look after yourself. But Bucky will always be there to help you.

[beomboomboom]

Important

genre: fluff, angst, established relationship

pairing: idol!Jihoon x reader

summary: Jihoon is a busy guy, everyone knows that. But why does it hurt so much when he can't even make time for his own girlfriend? All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so difficult?

warnings: a bit of swearing

note: This fic includes some lyrics from the song All My Love by SEVENTEEN (If you haven't heard this song, I strongly recommend you listen to it. It's such a good song!!) I hope you enjoy reading the fic <33

"Am I really that important to you?"

There's tears in your eyes when you ask Jihoon the question you've been wondering about for the past few weeks.

Part of you knows you're just being irrational. Jihoon has other things he needs to focus on. He's an idol and a producer for fucks sake, it's practically guaranteed that he's going to be busy with work 24/7. So it's unrealistic for you to expect him to be able to make time for you whenever you feel the need for some company.

But the other part of you feels lonely. Coming home everyday to the sight of an empty apartment without Jihoon isn't exactly the most uplifting sight to see. And even when Jihoon on the rare occasion, does come home, all you are able to see is his passed out figure before he leaves in the morning while you still sleep.

All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so hard?

You receive your answer to that very question in the way Jihoon sits in a distracted silence when he hears your question. His eyes looking at his computer in a daze, too busy thinking up of ideas for new songs to produce rather than looking at the way you're about to burst into tears.

"Fine. If you can't even give me one second of your time and focus I'm going to leave," you yell angrily as more tears spring into your eyes. You quickly stand up from your position on Jihoon's couch and exit his studio, slamming the door behind you.

"WAI-" Jihoon starts to shout, finally finding his voice. His eyes widen while his hand is outstretched toward the direction of his door as if it's going to make you come back.

But it's too late.

You're gone.

Jihoon knows he fucked up.

More than that actually.

He knows that it's his fault your relationship with him feels so one-sided. He has a habit of overworking himself. Oftentimes minutes in the studio turning into hours before turning into days of being cooped up producing songs, causing him to neglect the very people he wants to spend all his time with.

Jihoon wishes he could tell you how much he loves you, that he's not trying to neglect you on purpose. He just sometimes gets caught up in his work and doesn't realize when it's time to take a break. He wishes he could tell you that he misses you as much as you miss him, even though he doesn't show it.

But now he has no idea what he could possibly do to solve the predicament he's in. Jihoon could talk with you, but he knows he's not the best with confrontation. Jihoon could give you a few days of space, but he knows that it's probably not the best choice since the whole reason you got mad was because Jihoon wasn't around you enough.

So, Jihoon turns to what he's best at doing. What he does when he doesn't have a clue on what to do.

Songwriting.

Sometimes he'll write songs for his members, comforting them through his lyrics. Other times he'll write songs for Carats, wanting to share with them some encouraging and happy tunes.

But this time, he's writing a song for you.

Jihoon knows that writing a song for you won't make you forgive him instantly, but the most he can do is try to make things better a little bit at a time.

It's 3 in the morning when you hear a knock at your front door. As the rain falls softly on your window, the only question that on your mind is, who the heck is outside your house at such an ungodly hour?

Feet shuffling along the cold floor, you sleepily walk over to your door and open it. Your sleepy eyes are still trying to make sense of the situation when Jihoon stands outside your apartment door.

In front of you stands a drenched Jihoon with puffy red eyes carrying his signature black backpack that is absolutely ginormous on him.

"Jihoon? What are you doing here?"

Mumbling something incoherently, you watch, still half-awake, as Jihoon slowly walks up to you and gently wraps his arms around you.

As you feel the wetness from Jihoon's shirt begin to seep into your own shirt, you try to softly push Jihoon away. But that only makes Jihoon hug you tighter. "Don't go...,"you hear him mumble as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, and that's when you realize that Jihoon is crying.

You're torn.

Seeing your boyfriend cry is a rare occurence and as much as you want to hug him tightly and kiss away all his tears, you want to run away because how can he come back to your apartment as if nothing had happened in these past few months.

"I'm sorry," Jihoon says, his voice cracking and mouth quivering, as he cries, letting his tears drop messily into the fabric of your shirt.

Taking Jihoon's face in your hands, you quietly rub away his tears which only makes him cry harder. Leaning into your touch, he takes hold of your wrist and gently rubs it. "I-I'm really sorry. You don't deserve a terrible boyfriend like me."

"No, don't say that. You know what, how about I get you a towel so that you can dry yourself off and then we can talk more, okay?

"Okay"

By the time you return from the bathroom, towel in hand, Jihoon is sitting on the couch and pulling his computer out of his bag. "oh...are you going to be working more?"

He can hear the disappointment in your voice when you ask the question, you're so used to him working all the time that you're not even angry ... you're just disappointed. Jihoon feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he realizes that all the things you said to him before were true, he was just too busy to realize it.

"Ah, no. I have something to show you," Jihoon says with a tired smile as he pats the seat on the couch beside him, inviting you to sit.

Hesitant, you take a seat next to your boyfriend and look at his computer screen where you can see him open a file. You then watch as Jihoon pulls out a pair of earphones and plugs them into the computer.

Putting the earbuds into your ears, Jihoon presses play as his eyes shake, nervously watching your face for any kind of reaction.

The second the melody of the song plays into your ears, you feel like crying out of disbelief. "You made a song for me?" you ask, suprise etched all over your face, as you look towards Jihoon's direction.

Nodding with a small but nervous smile, Jihoon then motions for you to continue listening.

And it's when you reach the part of the song where you can hear the lyrics sung by the sweet honey voice of your boyfriend, when you begin to cry.

Just likе a pouring meteor shower Please be the light in the dark sky I can do everything for you For you I just want to give you everything And that makes me feel small, a fool who only accepts It suddenly makes me hate myself And makes me feel sorrier towards you

"Oh- Jihoon-," you start to say with tears in your eyes as you close the gap between you and Jihoon and give him a tight hug, your face pressed against his chest. "This is beautiful," you continue on to say sincerely.

Blushing, Jihoon quietly mutters with a nervous laugh, "you haven't even finished the song, listen to what i'm trying to say."

Following Jihoon's instructions, you lean on him and quickly refocus your attention back on the song.

Though it was hard writing my feelings down And all I have is this song and these lyrics For you, for you, for you, for you I sing this song for you tonight So I can get closer to your love

My love only amounts to this But my feelings will never change, for you baby Even if my love only amounts to this I'll be your umbrella in the rain I'll protect you on all your days

By the time you finish listening to Jihoon's song for you, you're in shambles. "fuck- Jihoon, I love you so much you know? I'm still mad at you but I still love you so much," you say as tears roll down your cheeks. Pressing your forehead against Jihoon's, you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

Jihoon freezes for a moment before immediately tugging you closer to his body and reciprocating your kiss. "I don't deserve someone as precious as you,"he whispers before devouring your lips into another kiss.

When both you and Jihoon finally break away from each other to get some oxygen into your lungs, Jihoon gently takes your hands into his own. "I-I'm really sorry though. I was a terrible boyfriend these past few months, but I'm going to work on trying to improve myself. Even though I'll probably be busy with producing songs, i'll try to make time for you."

You let out a relived smile when you hear Jihoon's sincere words. "Okay, and I understand if you need time for other things too."

Jihoon gives you a small nod and a smile. "And to answer your previous question, of course you're important to me. For fucks sake you're my girlfriend, you're one of the most important people in my life. How can you not be important to me?" Jihoon says while cupping your face before continuing on to say," just because I don't show it, doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"I love you," he finally whispers with a smile as he places a small peck on your lips.

[samandcolbyownme]

Sam had been focusing too much on working that he had ended up neglecting his relationship. You guys had planned to go out on a movie dinner date weeks in advance and already had dinner reservations set, he is too busy working to realize that the reservation was 30 minutes ago. Should you have reminded him? Yes. But you also feel like you shouldn't have to because if he cared then he would've put his work aside for a few hours to spend time with you. ANGSTTTTT but also fluff or smut at the end, dealers choice 😏

Warnings: Slightly angsty, strong language, reader breaking down, crying, yelling, suggestive language, kinda sad but happy ending

Enjoy!

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Sam has missed reservation times. He’s been late to pick you up sometimes. He’s even had to cancel last minute, but you understood. For the most part, at least. You knew he had deadlines to make, people to update, plans to make, and flights to book.

Once the number of times he’s practically bailed on your reaches double digits, that’s when you really started to get mad. His reasonings, you’re sure were valid at the time, but you would get so mad you thought it was a bullshit excuse, so that just made you pissed.

You said something, you had a long talk one night, got on the same page again and everything was good, almost seemed better.

But only for a short while until things started to gradually trickle back into its cursed routine. You’d say something to him again, then it would just repeat the cycle. Back to square one with it. Finally, maybe after one or two more times, you gave up on what you felt like you just wasting your breath.

One night, while you’re laying in bed getting ready to go to sleep, Sam comes in after edited his one video for hours of the day. You feel the bed dip down and his body slides up against yours.

“I made us reservations at the Mitz, they couldn’t get us in until three weeks from now, so figure out what you want to do before or after and we can do that.”

You stay silent for a second before speaking. Your voice is in a very low whisper, “You promise?” He kisses your shoulder and nuzzles his head into your neck, “I promise. I’m sorry I haven’t been with it lately.”

“You and Colby have been busy. I get it.” You roll over to face him, “I guess.. I just feel like you forget I’m here sometimes.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” He kisses your forehead and you close your eyes, “I love you.” He rests his forehead against yours and lets out a quiet sigh, “I love you so much.”

Over the last three weeks, Sam and Colby surprisingly didn’t have much going on, so it worked out in everyone’s favor. You and Sam pretty much stayed home, and when he did edit, he made sure to include you.

Which is why, when that certain Thursday evening rolled around, you were absolutely crushed. It felt like, in a weird way, a betrayal. It really wasn’t that deep, but to you it was.

You scoffed as you hear the front door open, rolling your eyes as you look to the small clock on your vanity.

07:30 PM - 30 minutes past your set reservation time.

You drag the makeup wipe down your face, wiping away the hope you had painted on earlier in the evening. You can feel the burn growing in your eyes as you try not to cry.

You may think that two times isn’t bad, but it’s not really about the amount of times it’s happened. It’s more about how Sam doesn’t realize it’s happening. He doesn’t put up a fight, he just gradually buries you under all of his paperwork.

You hear him making his way up the steps and you know in your heart that it’s not going to be good. You take a deep breath, wiping over your face one more time with a clean wipe.

“So guess where Colby and I get to go next month.”

“Hmm?” You hum lowly, but loud enough for him to hear. You keep your stare fixed on yourself in the mirror in front of you. Sam walks closer and you feel every muscle in your body tense up.

You really didn’t want to fight with him - again.

“What’s wrong,” He asks, laying a hand on your shoulder. You were so mad at him, his touch only made the urge to cry even harder to fight back. You shake your head, “N-nothing.” You stand up, “I think I’m just gonna go get a bath and then go to bed.”

You grab a clean change of clothes and before you walk out, it’s hits Sam. He lets out a sigh, “Oh fuck.” You turn around, “Congratulations.” You give him a fake smile, “You figured out what’s wrong.”

“Y/n.” Sam calls out but you walk away. He follows after you, “Waitwaitwait.” He grabs your arm, pulling you towards him, “I am so.. so… sorry.” You tilt your head back resting it against the wall as you let out a slight laugh, “It doesn’t matter Sam.”

You look at him and his face falls, “W-What do you mean by that?” He stands up a little straight as you just simply shrug.

He shakes his head, “No. don’t say it. Please.” You chew on your lip as you feel the tears well, “I’m not..” you quickly swipe away the tears dripping down your flushed cheeks, “I’m not leaving, Sam. I just..”

You let your hands fall to your sides, and you just crack, spilling all of your emotions, “I need more, Sam. I-I know. I know that me getting upset over dates might be silly, but they’re important to me, Sam.” Your voice cracks and you look into Sam’s glossy eyes, “You’re everywhere, Sam. But you’re not here.”

You sniffle, voice cracking quietly, “And it’s hurts.”

He scrunches his nose and nods. You blink and the tears fall, “I shouldn’t h-have to be the one to remind you, fuck Sam. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

“You’re right.” He mumbles quietly as he nods. You look up, sighing, “I do not want to end us, Sam. Please know that.” His hands slide to your waist, but you speak before he can, “We need alone time. We-we need time to just be a normal couple sometimes.”

You bring your hands to your eyes and just sob.

Sam pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he whispers how sorry he is, “You are the most important thing to me, okay?” He presses his lips to your temple and you nod, mumbling, “Mhm.” You’re trying to get your crying under control as Sam continues, “I’m so sorry I missed tonight, baby.”

He sniffles and that makes you cry harder, “I’m sorry.” You sob out and Sam cups your cheeks, “Hey.” He raises his voice slightly, catching your attention. He raises his brows and leans in, his voice calm, “You don’t ever need to be sorry about anything, okay?”

You nod and Sam shakes his head, “You did nothing wrong, okay? I deserve to be called out on my bullshit. You did the right thing.” He kisses your cheek, “You’re my number one priority, from here on out I promise I’m going to prove it to you every. Single. Day.”

You smile slightly and you feel yourself gradually calming down, “I just didn’t want do make you mad.” You sniffle out, gasping out for air because of how worked up you had yourself.

You were slightly embarrassed, but Sam really doesn’t seem like he’s judging you at all. He laughs slightly, “Trust me, it would take you doing something a lot more stupid than getting upset over me being a dumbass to be mad at you.” He smiles and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “I love you.”

You smile, looking up at him, “I love you, too.” You lean in, pressing your lips to his and you feel him smirk. His voice is quiet against your lips as he mumbles, “Is this a bad time to tell you that Colby and I want to bring you on to the channel. Take you with us on every investigation?”

You lean back, looking up at him, “What did you just say?” He scratches his forehead, “When I got home, I was going to tell you that Colby and I were talking and we both agreed that when you’re on investigations with us, they turn out so much better than when it is just us, so with that.. we did a little poll thing in XPLR club and it turns out that the fans want you to join us. just as much as Colby and I do.”

You stare at him for a few seconds before you gently push his shoulder, “you couldn’t have just led with that, babe?” You laugh, “I embarrassed myself infront of you for absolutely no reason.”

He shakes his head, “First off, don’t be embarrassed. Second off, you calling me out on stuff that bothers you shows me you care enough to communicate with me, and I honestly cannot tell you how much that means to me.”

You bite down on your lip, “You might not be able to tell me, but I think you just might be able to show me.” You raise your brows as you look up at Sam and he smirks, instantly lifting you up against the wall, “Where to?”

You smile, “Take me to bed.”

══════════════════

Thank you so much for reading! As always, let me know what you thought! I love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[arachniee]

Imagine an AU where reader fell from heaven from the sheer grief of losing Lucifer and had been living amongst the sinners for eons without him so much as knowing. And then he asks Charlie to ask about them when she goes to visit heaven and she drops that information on him. What would go through his mind?

now this was sent when i wasnt accepting requests anymore so even tho i wanted to write a fic, i'll just summarize my thoughts

i would imagine the reason that reader fell after lucifer was the fact that she may have rebelled against heaven because of his downfall. maybe she had started neglecting her duties, or worse, literally did not want to do them until they bring lucifer back to her.

of course, heaven cannot fulfill her wish so they ended up giving her a choice to join him and become a fallen angel. she didnt know what to do, she knew that lucifer was already happy with lilith, but she physically cannot be that far away from him, it hurts too much to ignore. so in the end, she chose to fall from grace just to possibly, even just a little bit, get closer to where he was.

she'd admit, the first few years of her life in this new environment was, well, hellish. But the fact that she knew lucifer was here, no matter how far, it made her feel a tad bit calmer. when charlie finally reaches heaven, asking the angels about a particular one that her father knew. and when they break the news to her, she'd be quite confused. but she'll relay the message to her father anyway, who was (clearly) excited about it.

the moment charlie spoke, the pit in his stomach grew deeper and deeper til confliction filled his every being. she was here? all along?

lucifer would be mad, not at her, but at heaven. and himself. he would blame himself for everything that she went through, before and after her fall. guilt would be creeping up quickly, tears fallings as his mind ran miles. did he hurt her that much, for her to choose to give herself up from what people referred to as paradise? he couldnt imagine the things that may have happened to her here, in hell. the kingdom which he ruled upon. him.

maybe he wouldn't tell anyone at first, but he'll look for her. it would even make his daughter worry, noticing the black, dark circles under his eyes. he hadn't been sleeping properly at all, how could he? she was all he could think about. she consumed him. consumed him in his awake, even in his dreams. she was everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time. she was so close, yet so far.

he knew he'd find her, one way or another, sooner or later. and with charlie's (and the hotel's) help, he knew that he was going to see you again. but in the mean time, while he is "resting" (more like thinking about her) as per his daughter's request, he'd probably make multiple rubber ducks that he think you would like. maybe, you weren't mad at him. maybe, you'd accept him again. maybe, you could learn to love him again.

but for now, he'd be flipping hell upside down just to find you, and he's not stopping until he finds you. or maybe, until you finally decide to show yourself to him.

[harukaprism]

Grief

Pairing: Jiyan x GN!Reader

Warnings: Grief mentions of death of a family member.

Word Count:  772

Dawn's notes: Hi! Slowly getting back into the swing of things, this is how I cope after losing my grandma and my mother in law.

Grief is one hell of a bitch. Once the news was delivered to you that your dearest family member had passed you were numb; the stages of denial were running through your head. What were you going to do now? How were you going to proceed with your life now that they were gone. Why? Why why why why why wh-

Someone called your name, looking up all you could see was shapes through your tears it was hard to make the person out. They spoke again but all you could do was let your cheeks get wet as you stood frozen and unsure. 

Warm hands cupped your puffy wet cheeks trying to get you to focus. You knew these hands, you knew their softness and their care, you knew the healing they had done. The wind rushed around the two of you taking the last tears away from your eyes. 

You were in Jinzhou though you knew not where, the long teal pony tail fell behind your childhood best friend, his beautiful yellow eyes stared at you full of worry and concern for your well being. “Jiyan.” All you could manage was a whisper before you collapsed into his arms crying into his chest. Everything that had just happened finally took its toll on your body, but here was Jiyan holding you steady in the chaos that was now your world. 

He said nothing and didn’t move, letting you cry into him as long as you needed. His hand moving slowly up and down your back letting you be in your immediate grief. 

Not knowing how much time had passed you pulled away from his now very wet chest and looked up at his face, nose runny and eyes red. “Y-you were on a mission, how are you back home?” 

“Don’t worry about me right now, what happened?” His voice was so deep now, almost unrecognizable but it was still your Jiyan. 

Shaking your head you hugged him as tight as you could, you needed to be around him and only him right now, he was the only one that could make you feel better. After a moment the two of you made your way to your own home for comfort. 

Jiyan made tea for the two of you as you sat there trying to calm down enough to explain to him what was going on. He finally looked comfortable with this heart neatly placed in a corner. Those beautiful golden dragon eyes stared at you waiting. 

Raising your tea cup to your lips you closed your eyes letting yourself fall back into your body and finding comfort within his company. After swallowing you looked up at him again with a frown. With a deep breath you started to explain how your family member had passed and your close relationship with them.

The look on his face made your heart sad. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you first found out.” He was moving again, getting closer to you. “Do you know how long you were walking around the city? 

Why would he ask you that? “Well I found out today, so maybe a few hours.” 

He let out a sigh as he sat in front of you with your knees touching his. “You had wandered around Jinzhou for three days. It’s why I came home this early, because no one could get across to you.” 

Three days? How was that even possible? Suddenly your stomach growled, pulling your attention to the neglect that you had given your body. The heat of embarrassment rushed all over your body. 

A smile cracked at the corner of Jiyan’s lips. “Go take a bath and sleep. I can take care of everything else.” 

Not being given a choice you shamefully made your way to your bathroom taking a well needed bath and shower just to be safe. You were still hungry but now that it had been brought to your attention you hadn’t slept in so long you collapsed in your bed. 

When you did wake up it was presumably the next day, though you knew he would take care of everything for you you figured he wouldn’t have stuck around this long. Dressing yourself you made your way back to your living room. 

Outside the sun was rising and the birds were chirping, like everything was fine; you weren’t but the world had to move on right? As you stared out of the widow you didn’t even notice the man sleeping on your couch snoring ever so slightly. 

You were going to be fine, Jiyan was going to make sure of that.

[hunterbunter3000]

I think it's also about the way sweetheart touches them. She's gentle with them, which is something rare for absolutely all of them. Sweetheart doesn't assume because they're in the military that they don't need kindness and support and delicate hands. She knows they already think that they don't deserve anything like that so when she sees them wanting it and craving it, she is so willing to give. Her love cup is so full for her team and the people she cares for.

She handles ghost like he's still just Simon Riley, a sad kid deep down. Sweetheart offers up affection that she can just feel is so foreign to him. Yes he can take care of himself but everybody knows it doesn't extend beyond the basics and she takes time to try to heal his aches and pains that he's gotten so used to living with

She's delicate with price, knowing how hard he's worked to keep the team alive and well. How most of the time, he gets no recognition for his efforts. Sure, she teases him and calls him an old man when he complains about his back but in the same breath is offering a massage to get the ever present knot out

She's attentive with soap, hating how he looks like a sad puppy when people try to brush him off as a loud and brash grown up child. She wants him to hold on to that because she knows if it goes away, he'll seem like a shell of himself. She's seen what too long in the field can do to someone like johnny and how it can change them for the worst so she always encourages his jokes and such.

She helps gaz as much as she can. She sees how he pushes himself and how it sometimes ends up in neglect of himself. How many meals has he missed due to trying to just get one more thing done? How many hours of sleep has he skipped to try to figure something out? With a firm hand, she always guides him into taking care of himself and to give himself a much needed break.

IM RAMBLING IM SORRY

AAA NOOO DONT BE SORRY- DONT EVER BE SORRY FOR RAMBLING THIS IS AMAZING 💖✨️✨️💕

(I'm terribly sorry this took so long- BUT GARRICK'S IS PRETTY LONG SO ITS A WIN WIN-)

But holy cow I agree with this so much

Tw: mentions of depression, insecurities, trust issues

I'm really gonna start with Soap because what you said is her biggest fear. She cares deeply for Mactavish and always pays a little bit more attention to him than the others because of that terror.

It would be a nightmare if she didn't see the life in his eyes anymore. Her heart was already broken when her second uncle came back a zombie from being in the army. Didn't talk to anyone, and if he did he would always snap at them. He loved his family still. He really did. But the happiness, and the compassion was gone. He couldn't let go of the guilt, of the regret he had in his choices. He didn't really talk about it, but when he did Sweetheart could see the black tar oozing out of his mouth. All the internal pain and suffering. She doesn't want to see Soap be like that, since their personalities are quite similar. Fun, chipper, determined and kind. She will protect his internal being with everything she has, just like she did with her uncle. So she will always laugh at his jokes and add on to them, making them both double over. She will always stand up for him when someone calls him loud and brash. Telling him it's okay to express yourself how you want to.

If she fails, if she even sees the shine leave his eyes for a second, she knows she failed her uncle again and will never be the same.

--

Now with Ghost-- GOOAAHHHHDDDD he needs all the hugs and cheek kisses he can get (and really just hugs) he doesn't like to be touched unless he knows you knows you (kinda like König and Roach) it took Sweetheart a WHILEE to get close to Ghost. Yes, he did have a small soft spot for her, but he would NOT let her touch him. It took like five months just to let her touch his shoulder. Because of his insane trust issues and paranoia, he didn't let her get close. He couldn't. He couldn't risk getting hurt from Sweetheart. Kind, charming, thoughtful, Sweetheart. Caring, strong, smart, Sweetheart. He craved for her touch so badly that he knew it was what he needed, but he couldn't handle the pain afterward. But there was no pain when she first hugged him when he came out of that explosion alive. There was no pain when she held his hand through his panic attack. There was just warmth. And love. Through every touch she gave him, it spoke of love and care. She gave him time. She gave him so much patience so he could trust her. So he could love her. And he does.

Price-- that man deserves a hundred medals I swear. As you said, he gets no recognition of his effort from anyone, because that's what he's supposed to do. He's supposed to get everyone out alive, he's supposed to succeed everytime. It's just built in the job with that expectation. But Sweetheart knows in order to keep that kind of task going, he needs support. And my god, does she give it to him. Always patting him on the back and saying good job. Checking for any injuries, and if there are, she would fix them. Listening to anything he's talking about and giving her opinions on it. Giving him some tea and something to eat if he's up late. And just giving him any form of affirmation. He deserves it. He deserves all the support, the back rubs, the massages and the teasing, the tea and the naps, all of it. And Price is so grateful for it. If she wasn't there for him, no one would be.

Kyle. Gaz. Garrick. Goodness, that boy has put so many expectations on himself that NO ONE ELSE has put on him. It's weighing him down. Since he's the youngest and has less experience than everyone else, he thinks that he has to catch up to everyone else or be better than them in order for people to see him. See him being one of the members of Task Force 141. The best of the best, right? Like Sweetheart? How she carries herself through chaos, how she handles dire situations, how well she works with others, how physically, mentally, and emotionally strong she is? Can he be skilled like Sweetheart? Calm and collected like Ghost? Well-armed like Soap? He doesn't know. His insecurities are always getting the best of him, making him forget to brush his teeth. Or eat breakfast. Or even get out of bed. Is he even fit to be on this team? Sweetheart knocks on his door. Is he even worthy? She knocks again. He has so much to catch up on. She opens his door. How will he catch up to them? She sighs, walking towards his curled up figure on his bed. He's in their shadow. Maybe he should leave. Sweetheart comes into his view, shocking him. She has a slight concerning face, but more anger than anything. Angry that he hasn't been taking care of himself. Concerned on why he hasn't been taking care of himself. She grabs his hand and brings it to her lips, closing her eyes. His entire body feels warm. Awake. She breathes in and opens her eyes back up. She urges him to get up. Get up and take a shower. His brain says no, but his body is moving subconsciously. She waits outside the Men's Bath Unit until he's done. She waits for him, quite closely, when he's brushing his teeth; Sweetheart tells him not to forget to brush his molars. She waits for him when he dresses himself in clean clothes, still in the same room as him, just turned. She waits for him to finish eating a big breakfast, which he eats fully. All with silence. All with a neutral face. Yet her actions are firm. Caring. Helpful. She sits him down on his now cleaned bed, the help of Sweetheart, and they just... talk. Talk about what's been going on, talk about why he feels this way, and when. It helps. She's giving her opinions on what he can do to be better, but it's up to him to take them. She sighs, eyes studying him. 'I hope I'm not crossing any boundaries with you. But I couldn't sit aside and let you make yourself disappear. Especially when you're valued as a teammate and a friend.' She says. Gaz feels like crying. And he does. He hugs so tightly. Tight enough that she could feel his appreciation through his touch. He's thankful that she saw him. And she continues to see him.

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 10

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 13.4k

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

Summary:

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

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

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

Read on ao3 here

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

Nearly, but not quite. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. 

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

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

You give Astarion’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ominous.”

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

“Please don’t be mad at me?” you ask.

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

“It’s inside the book,” you explain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your mother…” Astarion looks stunned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face feels hot, but Astarion preens. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was the sacrifice?” You ask quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You watch as Astarion storms off in a huff.

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

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

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

“So do you,” Gale points out.

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

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

He stops pacing when he sees you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For us, little flower.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, please continue.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

He closes the distance and kisses you. 

—----------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Raphael,” you choke out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man you’ve helped me become.

Oh, he was so sweet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The best distraction.” 

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

Insatiable, your husband. 

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

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

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

But that would be too easy, right?

… Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion thinks for a minute. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-----------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You both remember the plan?” Gale asks.

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

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

You grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mephistopheles growls in anger. “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------------

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

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

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

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

He didn’t need to be afraid any longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You will find none, of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion huffs out a breath of laughter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You playfully shield your eyes.

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

You laugh and Astarion’s chest blooms with warmth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You stole my line,” Astarion pouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s truly an award-worthy performance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I’m so helpful,” Astarion pouts.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s quite a bold confession from you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My hair!” he cries out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile and it puts the sun to shame. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Astarion.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod vehemently.

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

“Star…” you pant. “S-so good.”

And Astarion just feels so warm and good and safe. 

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

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

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

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

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

His whole body trembles as he comes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Notes:

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

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

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

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

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

[idontknowmyownmind]

Just randomly remember threads I read on Twitter long time ago, so my memories are vague at best

It's a combination of more than two threads

The idea is, twin krs and cale used to be so close but since the arrival of violan and basen, they become distant

Different from cale who choose to be the 'bad', roksu actually try to be close with his new family members

Cale and roksu share bed, but since then cale told him that he doesn't want to again

Roksu comply because he can't really reject cale even though it's make him sad

Cale can only watch from afar how his twin play with basen with their parents watching

Making a perfect picture of family without him

He miss his twin dearly but he know that it's his own fault and consequence of his choice

Cale went to sleep, ignoring the aches of his heart

The next morning, hans found cale laying in the middle of blood soaked bed with dagger still stabbed in his heart

The dagger has arm symbol but no one know that beside the molans

Let's say that ws mistake cale for roksu, someone in the 'oracle' who is said will end him

Hans immediately check whether cale still alive while shouting for someone to come

A maid stood frozen for too long hans has to slap her and tell her to get the count

She frantically run toward the dinning room and inform everyone

She only manage to says, "young master cale.. blood.." before roksu bolt toward his twin room

His eyes shaking and his breath ragged but he keep running

When he arrived, he feel like the world stop and his world started to crumble

Hans, despite crying, try to get rid of the bloody sheet while calling cale

Roksu stumble toward his twin, calling him deperately

But it's too late

Cale is gone

Roksu, drown in guilt and sorrow, refuse to burried his twin

Treat him as if he still alive

Keep him locked in a room far from everyone, deep inside the mansion

He keep cale's body 'healthy' with magic

He is trully spiralling into insanity, obssessing over his twin body and refusing to believe that he is dead

He will dress cale up, doing his hair, cuddle with him, and tell him stories or his daily life

He forbid anyone to enter the chamber he keep cale

The only one allowed to enter beside him is only hans and the molans, he even forbid his family

His irrational mind blame them, blame his father who neglect them, blame violan and basen for coming here, but mostly blame himself for leaving his twin alone

He also become obssesses with arm, wanting to razzed them to the ground, leaving no one acquainted with them alive

The events still happen like lcf but with darker and more insane and crueler roksu

He show no mercy toward his enemies

His people both respect and fear him

Once, the kids accidently enter cale's chamber and that's the first time roksu look at them with wild and harsh eyes and spoke to them coldly

He ignore them for a week, locking himself inside with his twin

And that's when his people found out about the event from the past through the molans

Rosalyne once try to talk roksu out of his madness but almost got killed in his rage if not for choi han stopping roksu

It wasn't something that could be touched anymore because it was already rooted in roksu's heart, mind and soul

From then on, no one ever bring it up again

Hmmm.. some ideas how I want to continue this

First,

Roksu find a way to wake cale up

Make him more of an empty vessel, a soulless puppet than anything

But roksu doesn't care, at least cale is awake and moving

Roksu stick close to him

Hugging him on his laps while he caressing his hair lovingly

Sleeping on cale's lap while he comb his hair gently with his fingers

Cale face eerily blank, his eyes like those of glass, he never talk and only react to roksu

Second

A cale from another worldline, where he still very much alive, accidently got transported into this fuck up worldline

He doesn't know that he is in a completely different world and think he still inside his world

Walk back to henituse teritory, ignoring the weird and shocked gaze from thw citizen because he think it's must be because he is a trash anyway

When he arrived, he weird out with how everyone acting and he kinda feels scared seeing his twin gaze him intently with those dark eyes

When Eruhaben want to tell him that he is in different world, after they 'interrogated' him, roksu immediately take cale with him

With his glibe tongue, he convinced cale that everyone just being weird and he doesn't need to worried about anything

Send a silent warning to everyone that no one will not tell this cale the truth or else

A week passed by and it's the first time (after a long time for the henituse and staffs) they see roksu to look actually geniunely happy

It's a twisted situation but they can't do anything it might trigger roksu

He never leave cale's side, when cale complaint he manipulate his way and guilt trip cale to let him

Then roksu from cale original worldline also sent there after he threatening GoD

GoD warning him about this world other him, roksu doesn't think much thinking that they're not that different

Oh boy, he is so surprised when he witness it with his eyes

His possessive side (he always possessive over his people, especially his twin) can't acccept it

[Or for more darker situation, this cale's roksu is also equally obssesses and possessive toward him]

[And for darker result, this cale is killed by roksu because he can't accept that there is him who still get to have his twin alive while he can't. If he can't have his twin beside him, then no other him should]

Third

Roksu transported to tboah world when cale just started his trash endeavor

Manipulate his way to be accepted into the family through cale

He is the image of a perfect, loving, and caring brother toward cale

Everyone like him

But the henituse feels something off with him, but they just brush it off because as fast as it come, it's gone when roksu smile at them

The molans know something is not right with their young master's twin brother from another world

With the way he stick close to cale, subtly monitor him and 'move' him as he want

But they can't do much more than keep watching and make sure that their your master is safe

Roksu slowly isolate cale from anyone, make him believe that no one truly there for him but him

He orchestrated that cale will getting beat up by choi han, but not to severe, and manipulate the molans to leave with choi han

He then twisted the story and sealed cale fate with him

The GoD actually bothering roksu to get back to his world but he refuse

GoD even use his real twin as a bait but he still refuse, he know that the molans and hans from his world will take care of his cale, they know better than neglect him

Maybe he can keep both cales

Always thinking about some reaction verse

Earth 1, st, lcf, and this alter tboah react

Of course the first three world confuse and shocked at first but not think much

The cales and roksoos can't get rid of wrongness from roksu but just brush it off

Alter tboah getting unsummoned and the other three react to roksu...

Alternate

Roksu let cale get burried

But he started to hallucinate that cale still alive and here

He doesn't tell anyone because he doesn't want to share

It's worsen as time goes by

....what if the hallucination is not actually hallucination

[lansplaining]

why i don’t think jin guangyao killed rusong

(or had him killed) 

“Then... then even if you had no choice but to marry Qin Su, you still could have neglected her,” Lan Xichen said. “Why did you have to... And why go through with the trouble of siring A-Song, only to kill your son with your own hands?” 

Jin Guangyao clutched his head in his hands and said in a bitter tone, “...After the wedding, I never touched A-Su again. A-Song... was conceived before we were married. At the time, I was afraid that a delay would cause complications...” 

So he and Qin Su had consummated their union in advance. If not for that, he would never have ended up committing incest with his own younger sister. He didn’t know whether he should hate his father, who was hardly a father at all, or his own paranoid, overthinking self! 

Lan Xichen sighed. “Next-- and do not attempt to prevaricate-- but answer me. Did you intentionally plot Jin Zixuan’s death?” (7 Seas trans., 86-7) 

This is the sequence where Jin Guangyao lays everything out. Given what he chooses to reveal, it seems safe to assume that he isn’t hiding anything. So why do he and Lan Xichen just completely drop the Rusong question? There’s potentially an answer in the way Xichen frames the question-- that is, it’s a two-in-one of “why did you sleep with her and conceive a son only to kill him” and JGY’s response answers both-- I didn’t know when I slept with her and when I conceived him. 

But why does even the narration seem to forget about it? Why doesn’t it say, “he would never ended up committing incest with his own younger sister and having to kill his own son”?

I think... because he didn’t. I get annoyed by attempts to answer questions that hinge on how someone “would” or “should” act because everyone is different! But! Murdering your own son is something that would demand at least a little emotional unpacking, surely?? Or at least a little more explanation. He was a total innocent, and a child! But we get more time breaking down murders that are ten times more understandable, if not justifiable in the eyes of those listening, just from surface knowledge of the relationships. 

We even get other opportunities for it to come up, and it doesn’t. In the very next section, for example: 

“Despite us being born of the same man, why was your father able to spend his leisure time at home with his beloved wife, playing with his child, while I didn’t dare be alone with my wife and my blood ran cold at the sight of my own son?” (88). 

Again, dropping in “while I was driven to kill my own son” feels a little more rhetorically powerful-- if it happened. 

JGY leaves out potentially morally exculpatory evidence again and again when he isn’t asked for it directly-- like SiSi, like an explanation of how his mother was treated in the brothel he burned. The fact that he doesn’t go into Rusong’s death, and the fact that Lan Xichen just lets it pass without explanation, makes me think that the official version of events-- that he was killed in political retaliation-- is true. 

[kindlingkeen]

I need to know if I’m alone in this or maybe missing something.

It always bothers me when people say Tim’s childhood was so much worse than Jason’s, or even says they’re the same kinda thing. Am I the only one in this?? (More specifically when they compare them) Like it feels like they’re minimizing Jason’s story to nothing, when it makes his character up as much as his death does. (I’ve even seen people compare Tim’s childhood to Jason’s death, which is. A choice.)

Granted, I’m not a big Tim fan (he’s a cool character, just not the one I focus on) so maybe I’ve missed some part of his canonical backstory or ive subconsciously got something against his character idk.

But from my understanding, Tim is a rich kid who was taken care of (as in, he always had what he needed), just his parents were neglectful? Or away? (Not to say this isn’t bad, of course wouldn’t wish that on a kid either)

But Jason’s lived surrounded by crime and poverty, hell we see panels where he’s hurt and generally not havin a great time.

And I’m fine with people making angst worse because like, favourite character. I’m sure I’m guilty of doing the same to Jason (fave character bias and whatnot) it’s just something that strikes me as odd. But hey, maybe I just don’t know about some canon panel that shows Tim’s childhood as a tragedy where he almost died countless times (another thing I’ve seen fans use)

So yeah. Generally, what do you think about this? I am not too great with character analysis & whatever else, but I like the stuff you’ve said in regards to characters. I know you’re a Jason fan, unsure about how you feel about Tim/how much you know, but curious about your opinion anyway. Thanks.

You are not alone, anon.

You’re also not missing anything in canon, Tim’s childhood was not a tragedy (his parents traveled a lot and he spent his time in boarding school). Were his parents on the neglectful side? Yes. Does that equate to being parentless and living on the street before the age of 12? No. I answered an Ask about Tim a little while ago explaining why I don’t really care much for Tim in the comics or a lot of fanfics. And I only ranted a little about how projecting Jason’s trauma onto Tim is Not. Cool. So maybe check that out.

As for my opinion on this … *takes a deep breath* Let me start by saying that everyone should like what they like, read what they want, write what they want, etc. No judgement or shame intended at all.

But … my opinion is that the enemy-to-caretaker trope is to blame for the over abundance of this dynamic in the fandom.

It seems like this trope grew out of/is a Gen take on enemies-to-lovers. I have absolutely no problem with this trope in general. In fact, I quite enjoy it in certain settings. But the thing is, lovers can be equals. But a caretaker, that has an inherent power imbalance to the relationship. A caretaker takes care of a person who is in some way weaker or less able than them.

So, to make Jason a caretaker for Tim, you somehow have to make Tim weaker, and with time and repetition that’s gotten amplified to much weaker.

The easiest way to do this is to jack up the angst and trauma of Tim’s origin story and increase his overall vulnerability. Because in reality, the inherent power imbalance between Jason and Tim is not that significant. Jason is only two years older than Tim. They’re both supposed to be badass vigilantes who can fight and solve crimes. Tim’s home life was loads more stable and supportive.

Play a few games of fanfic telephone, and all of a sudden you have a baseline of touch-starved Timmy who was made to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs as a wee little niblet and then Lazarus-mad Jason came along and tried to murder him repeatedly (nope), slit his throat (‘twas but a scratch), and generally traumatized him beyond repair (Tim is Robin, pretty sure he’s been beaten up before). 🤦‍♀️

That’s my opinion, anon! Thanks for the ask! 💙

[slasherscream]

I loooveee your Until Dawn stuff!!! I'd love to hear more about Until Dawn yanderes and a darling who doesn't have good self care habits/forgets to take care of themself ❤️

YANDERE UNTIL DAWN CHARACTERS + READER WHO DOESN'T TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES

A/N: thank you for reading my until dawn content! it's such a small fandom these days.

- Josh never makes you feel bad about how hard it is for you to take care of yourself. Suffering from mental health issues of his own, he knows how difficult day to day living can be. While the way you treat yourself does worry him, he chooses to focus on fixing the problem by taking care of you himself. Making sure you eat. Going on walks with you so you're not always inside the house. Running you a bath. Every cheerful "thank you" that you give him over the smallest of actions makes him feel like he's finally found his purpose in life: you.

- Sam is a diligent and disciplined person overall and these traits easily extend to taking care of you. Once she's in your life, there is no more "forgetting" about self-care. At first she'll just try and remind you. Gentle pushes here and there. If this doesn't work, she'll simply take over. You've made it clear that you're not dependable when it comes to caring for the one thing Sam is most passionate about, so now she'll do the job for you. It's in your best interest to let yourself be taken care of. Sam never gives up.

- Chris worships you too much to question your judgement on anything. Who is he to tell you how to live your life? He's lucky you allow him to breathe the same air as you, frankly. Still, he hates the way you treat yourself. You're everything that's wonderful and perfect in the world but you neglect all your daily needs. You don't eat. You miss sleep! You overwork yourself. It's enough to drive him to the brink of madness. He solves this problem by waiting on you hand and foot. You may not care about yourself, but Chris is your doting servant. There'll be no more need to bother yourself with the petty aspects of daily living. Chris will worry about everything for you!

- Hannah is your loyal lost puppy. She adores you and hates that you don't care about yourself at all. She views you not taking care of yourself as a cry for help. For her help! You're just testing her, to see if she's paying attention, to see if she cares. She doesn't know why you won't just ask her to take care of you. She'd do anything for you if you asked. But maybe you doubt her devotion to you. You won't doubt it for long though, once Hannah has figured you out. She'll prove just how much she adores you. There won't be a doubt left in your mind.

- Emily is angered by the way you treat yourself. As if you're nothing. The fact that you're hers should be enough reason to take care of yourself alone. Still, you seem to relish self-neglect and abuse. She takes care of you, but lets you know the entire time that you should be doing it yourself. Not because she's unwilling to do it, or dislikes doing it, but because she worries. What would happen if she wasn't around? How far would this habit of neglect go? With the spiteful way she speaks, you'd never guess it was love fueling her actions and not irritation.

- Mike as a person can be separated into two distinct people: Mike before you and Mike after you. He's a much better person after he becomes obsessed with you. You bring out the selfless caretaker in him. In a lot of ways, he thinks you're helpless. Truly, you may not even be all that bad at caring for yourself. But Mike worships you in his own way: you deserve the best and anything less being provided for you irritates him. It's unlikely you'll ever meet Mike's standards when it comes to self-care. That's no real issue though, Mike will happily do it for you. In fact, he insists. Make it easier on yourself and let him pamper you. At least this way being taken care of is still "your" choice.

- Beth, despite being the youngest Washington sibling, is truly the most responsible. Taking care of others is nothing foreign to her. She'll rise easily to the occasion of being your caretaker, but will never make you feel as if you're a burden. She takes care of you quietly. Sometimes it'll be easy to forget she's doing it at all. That's the way Beth cares for everyone. For you, she'd go to the moon and back without so much as a grunt.

- Jessica is a little at a loss. She's used to people taking care of her, not the other way around. Still, she loves you and you worry her. So she tries to step up and be mature for once in her life. She'll actually communicate with you, unlike the other yanderes. She wants to know what you think you need help with. That's where she'll start, with instructions. From there she'll branch out into helping you fix the other aspects of self-care that you neglect. This is new territory for Jessica, but for you she'd learn to do handstands on water if you needed her to do it.

- Matt has been dutifully helping you with self-care long before he was your boyfriend. The only thing that's changed is that he was more afraid to push you when he was just your friend. Now, as your boyfriend, he's a little more brave when it comes to doing what needs to be done. "I really think you should eat just a little more, honey." / "Could we go to bed? It's pretty late... you have class in the morning." / "You just got home from work, let me do that." / The longer you're together the braver he'll be about taking care of you. While he wants you to be happy, he knows deep down that you being healthy is more important. So even if it irritates you, even if you snap at him sometimes, he'll push himself to take care of you. For a people pleaser like Matt, it's a big step.