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fabled-fiction · 5 months ago

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Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺�� Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him.

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?”

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw.

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards.

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety.

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…”

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #cregan stark #velaryon!reader #hotd x reader #hotd season 2 #strong!reader

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gamerwoo · 3 months ago

Text

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part One)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, a tiny bit of fluff if u squint ig (chan takes care of reader's injuries), some humor toward the end, mentions of blood, violence, mentions that reader is from america and moved to korea, reader doesn't know korean [dialogue in bold is meant to be korean]

Word count: 4,317

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

a/n: this is a part of the TftP universe, which is a Seventeen series!! if you haven't read that, some of this series might not make a lot of sense, but it can still be read on it's own! :) [if you do read TftP: this series also takes place after the events of Jeonghan's part, which is currently still ongoing]

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Your face was scratched up, your arms were sore from trying to push the werewolf off of you, and you were pretty sure the warm liquid dripping down your chin and onto your chest was blood, but you couldn’t tell where you were bleeding from. You limped your way through the forest, glad to have subdued the werewolf long enough to get away. You were out getting berries when you were attacked, so you only had the tiny pocket knife on you for defense. God, your family was going to have your ass for sure for not being prepared for this.

But you were currently not going toward town, you were going away from it. You just needed a place to hideout and patch up. Maybe you’d look a little better in the morning and your father wouldn’t berate you as hard as he would seeing you in your current state. How could a hunter not be prepared for a werewolf attack? That was the first thing your parents had warned you about when you started hunting alone. They let you in on the fact that werewolves weren’t just mythical monsters made up to scare kids into being good lest they be dragged off into the woods and eaten by one. But that was something you needed to know if you were going to go out hunting. You had to be aware of every creature – mythical or otherwise – that was out there.

Were you a werewolf hunter? ...Sort of. But you still were supposed to be ready to fight back if one attacked. You kept 3 silver bullets on you at all times, and yet…

The house you saw pulled you from your thoughts. It was made out of tree logs and seemed fairly big but not so big that it looked odd for it to be here in the small clearing. It seemed cozy and all of the lights were off, so you figured it must be abandoned. Who in their right mind would live out in the middle of a forest anyway?

You dragged your bum leg toward the house – you were pretty sure you twisted your ankle while running because you really had to prove you’re the worst hunter in the history of hunters that night – and in through an open window. That was a dead giveaway it was abandoned because nobody would just leave their window open like that.

The window brought you into a kitchen, specifically on top of a counter next to a sink. You slid down quietly and crouched down to your hands and knees. It was just precautionary and instinct to hide, so you crawled your way around the large kitchen table and out of the kitchen to a hallway. You saw a door wide open across the hall, seeing a sink and a toilet in there.

Jackpot. The bathroom has to have some medical supplies, right? Even if it was abandoned, maybe the people left some of their stuff there. Maybe they were eaten by bears so their belongings were left untouched. It was best to check for any sort of supplies just in case.

You carefully crawled your way over and through the door. Once inside, you closed the door silently and stood to look through the cabinet behind the mirror. Just as you hoped, there were bandages, peroxide, cotton balls, and other first aid things. You immediately got to work, cleaning off your face of the blood before tending to the small scrapes and cuts that had filled with dirt. You knew cleaning them would sting but it still made your teeth clench and sharply intake a breath.

A few seconds after the small noise you made, the bathroom door was flung open, making you gasp and leap toward the opposite wall. A younger looking guy – he could’ve been a teenager for all you knew – with fluffy brown hair stood in the doorway, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt and some loose shorts. His angry, golden eyes slowly shifted to red as he glared at you, and you knew you really fucked yourself over now.

“Shit…” you cursed under your breath, your hand fumbling in your pocket for the only small weapon you had.

Before you could even wrap your fingers around it, the wolf lunged at you, bringing you down to the tiled floor with a thud as your head hit the cool tiles. It hurt but thankfully it wasn’t enough to disorient you. The wolf’s claws grew, pinching at the skin of your arms. You lifted one foot in the space between you and kicked against his abdomen, throwing him off of you. In the process of him being flung away, his claws scraped against your biceps, making you wince slightly. It wasn’t anything too bad but it definitely broke skin. You quickly pushed yourself up and raced to get out of the bathroom, leaping over the wolf on the ground.

Just as you had jumped over him and ran to the open door, he grabbed your bad ankle and tugged you down onto the floor, landing on your stomach but catching yourself with your hands. He dragged you back to him as you tried to dig your nails into the hardwood floor. You knew this is how you would die but you were going to fight the whole time. It’s what you were taught to do.

He roughly flipped you over and straddled you. You punched him straight in his cheek with all the strength you could muster, but you knew your strength was nothing against a werewolf.

He let out a loud growl that had you cowering for a moment. He took that opportunity to claw roughly into your left side, making you cry out in pain now. But he apparently didn’t like how loud you were because he pinned your wrists above your head, and leaned down with his fangs extended, roaring in your face. The sight sent a chill down your spine, and tears pricked your eyes when he dipped his head down to your neck, mouth open wide and fangs extended.

You knew this was it. You had no way to fight back or run away. You weren’t strong enough in this state, and you didn’t have any weapons to help you. In a case like this, it was better to just have a quick death over one that was drawn out.

You squeezed your eyes closed and braced for the end, requesting through clenched teeth, “Just make it quick.”

You knew you had no way to fight back or to run away. This was it. All you could do was wait until it was over. You weren’t backing out of this. You never backed down, and even if you were facing death, it would be no different. The last thing you were doing was dying a coward.

But his weight was suddenly lifted off you, and you heard him hit the wall with a crash. Your eyes flew open to see a man a few inches shorter than the wolf towering over you, but his back was to you and his stance was protective. A wild, defensive growl ripped through his chest, the warning aimed at the wolf that was on you. He turned his head just enough to look back at you before his focus was in front of him again.

When your eyes met, that was when you felt it. The draw that you were told about by your father when he was telling you all about werewolves. He said both parties would feel it, but it was stronger for the wolf. For both, it was almost instantaneous as soon as their eyes landed on their mate. And you felt exactly that.

It felt like being in love, but it was like it was all at once instead of falling slowly. It hit you like a train instead of floating down a river. It felt…exactly like–

“Seungmin. Don’t,” the man’s voice was a low rumble that pulled you from your thoughts and had your blood turning to ice. The threatening tone to it was enough to make a grown man run for the hills, but you were frozen in place, trying to make sense of it all.

You didn’t even notice the other wolves that had rushed down the stairs to see the commotion, golden eyes going from your attacker, to your...mate, to you.

“Chan?” a new voice asked, their deep voice gravely from sleep full of concern. “Did you…?”

He had. He had imprinted on you. A werewolf-hunter-in-training was now the mate of a werewolf.

The stunned silence that followed was short lived when the front door a few yards behind you slammed open, and a familiar, beaten body dragged himself through the door. His golden eyes landed on you before turning red and narrowing.

It was the wolf you had just fought and gotten away from. This was just your shitty luck.

“Minho?” one of the wolves from the stairs recognized him. "Where the hell have you been? It's late."

His eyes just stayed glued on your body on the floor, “You?”

Despite the fact the situation could probably only be made worse by you opening your big mouth, especially when you didn't really understand the language they were speaking, you spoke up against your better judgement, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You were literally carried to your mate’s room, kicking and screaming despite the fact your body was screaming back at you to stop. Your injuries were burning with intensity, and you were sure you were bleeding all over your mate’s naked torso – especially from the cuts in your side. He didn’t seem to care, so neither did you. Then again, you wouldn’t care even if he did fuss about it.

“Put me down!” you demanded, slamming your fists into his bare back. “I’m not going to be your captive!”

The little Korean you knew wasn’t going to help you in this scenario. Your family had moved to Korea about half a decade ago after a freak accident involving the death of your mother, but you didn't pick up on a ton of the language since you didn't interact with other humans that often – speaking wasn’t necessarily important for your line of work. Instead, there were a few words and conversational phrases that you had picked up on in town or from other hunters – mostly about hunting, trading, and buying.

“So you want to go home and get humiliated by your family in front of the rest of the town? Maybe even worse for all I know,” he questioned, though the last part was a bit softer. His voice wasn’t as menacing as it was when he faced his pack brother but he was still definitely annoyed. “Believe me, I don’t find this situation ideal, but I have to protect you. It’s instinct. We both know it.”

You were too stunned to say anything for a moment. You didn’t expect him to respond, let alone understand you. But he replied in perfect English with a thick accent you didn’t recognize. Not many foreigners had moved to your country since before The War, but the numbers had only gone down even more afterwards. Even other Americans had moved away after The War, but your family stayed until grief struck.

“Th-Then–” you slowly began, finally remembering you had to say something otherwise he would win the argument. “Then I’ll run away.”

“I’ll just come find you and bring you back,” he promised with a chuckle. It was weird to you how your heart fluttered at his promise. It was something that never happened before. “No matter how many times you try to escape, I’ll always find you. You know that.”

He finally set you down, but it was on a bed. Once the blood rushed away from your head, you noticed that there were a few curious wolves standing by the open door. Your mate paid them no attention as he went to a corner of his room in search of something.

“Felix,” his voice was sure, like he already knew the person in question was there.

Sure enough, a thinner wolf with blonde hair that flared out around the back of his neck stepped forward. “Yeah?”

“Could you get the bandages and a towel? Jisung, you and Jeongin go collect the herbs, please,” Chan’s voice was soft as he walked over to you with a very large t-shirt. He placed it on the bed beside you and mumbled for you to change before he went over to address his packmates at the door. “The rest of you need to give her space unless you want the angry hunter on your ass.”

He seemed to be over his anger toward the other wolf who attacked you – Seungmin, apparently. And you were also surprised to hear him address another one of the pack in English.

So maybe Seungmin had understood you before.

“Chan, I’m concerned,” one of them spoke up. “Seungmin and Minho–”

“Keep them as far away from this room as possible,” the alpha stated urgently. “You know how they are, and the last thing I need is another fight. They’ll both take their grudges to the grave.”

“Why was she in here?” another asked, glancing at you from behind the alpha.

Chan just moved to block his view, “Considering I haven’t gotten the chance to ask her after Minho came running at her, I wouldn’t know.”

While Chan spoke to his pack, you took the time to really look at him, and you noticed something about him. Other than the obvious things like his good looks, chiseled jaw, and perfectly carved torso, you took note of various scars that scattered seemingly his entire body. They all seemed to be healed, but there were just so many of them. He had a handful on his face and even more littering his torso, arms, and hands. You saw about half as many on his legs, just off of what you could see from his shorts that were low on his hips. You wondered just what kind of trouble this guy got himself into on a daily basis to have that many scars.

The first one that spoke sighed and ran a hand through his black hair that was messy from sleep. “Alright well...we’ll leave you to it. Let us know if you need anything.”

Chan sighed as well and nodded, his voice softening. “Thank you guys. It means a lot.”

He softly closed the door and turned to look at you, his eyebrows scrunching together when he saw you, “You didn’t change clothes?”

You looked at the shirt he set beside you as if you were looking at food you found disgusting, “Am I supposed to?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I got it for you.”

A knock on the door had him turning away from you again – not before he caught you rolling your eyes – but he called over his shoulder for you to at least remove the bloodied and torn shirt. His broad frame blocked the door from the blonde wolf that had gotten the medical supplies to take care of you, so you peeled the shirt that was stuck to you with sweat, and both wet and dried blood off of you, leaving you in your bra, and beaten and dirty leather pants. Chan closed the door with the supplies in his arms, turning to face you again. You noticed something glint in his golden eyes, almost like they were shifting for a second, but the change was too quick to notice. They were the same gold when he knelt down in front of you, only worry was showing clear in them.

“It’s pretty deep…” he murmured as he examined the large claw marks that tore across your side. “How’s your ankle?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “My ankle?”

“I know it’s injured, you couldn’t even get away from Seungmin,” he chuckled, beginning to mix various herbs together in a bowl. “I’m Chan, by the way. Or Chris, if you want. What’s your name?”

You stayed silent, not even looking at him. Instead, you looked at a spot on the bed to your right, looking away from your wound.

Chan noticed your silence, looked up at you and let out a playful sigh, “Nothing? You don’t have a name?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you quizzed, still not looking at him. “Ever heard of ‘stranger danger’? Or do you not encounter that since you live in the woods and only talk to squirrels or something?”

He chuckled, “Is that what you think we do all day? Stay in the middle of nowhere and talk to squirrels?”

“You realize we’re enemies, right?” you pointed out to him suddenly, finally looking down at him. “Why do you even think I’d let you know any personal information?”

“Because I know you feel it, too,” he informed you in a gentle tone, his eyes soft like he was trying to comfort you. “And I know you want to be stubborn about it because of instincts and whatever, but the very least you can do for me is tell me your name to make it slightly easier.”

“Nothing about this mating thing is easy! We’re opposites; we’re supposed to be killing each other but you’re treating my wounds and saving me from your pack – one of which I tried to kill!”

Which was true. Maybe he was nice, sure, but that didn’t mean anything when you had been training for almost a decade to kill his kind and had been force fed all of these narratives that told you you had to hate him and his pack, regardless of if he had saved you from death and was now treating your wounds. You came from a family that would kill them and you if they found out you showed any sort of kindness toward them.

You were missing. The realization suddenly hit you that you wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon, and your father and brother would both get worried and come looking for you. And if they found you, the first thing they’d do is kill every last wolf in this house.

…Why did that thought hurt as much as it did…?

“That’s how this works,” he sighed, sounding and looking tired, pulling you from your thoughts once again. “Do you think I’m happy about this? I’m not. But I can’t fight the instinct to protect my mate, okay? So this is just how it’s gonna be, and, as level-headed as I want to be so I don’t make it worse for you, I suggest you don’t test me.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, whatever. You’re not that scary.”

The low growl resonated in his chest, but it only made you laugh as you looked down at him. He continued to just stare back before he went back to mixing medicine to help your wound, dropping the mating subject, but picking back up on your name, “So, who are you, hunter? I told you my name so it’s only fair you tell me yours.”

You sat back on your hands, letting out a deep sigh and speaking as you let it out, “_____. It’s _____. Happy?”

It was his turn to smile now, glancing up at you through dark lashes as dimples appeared on his cheeks, “Very.”

It was only then that you had realized the door had opened with two wolves holding clear jars of various plants and herbs. Both of them just stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable at best.

“Um…” one of them with round cheeks and shaggy brown hair spoke up timidly, “i-is this a bad time?”

Chan was half-surprised to find the entire pack still awake, gathered downstairs in the cramped kitchen. And of course, the topic of conversation was you and their alpha. Jeongin and Jisung, who had mixed up the herbs to help heal your wounds, were giving out all of the information they had gathered from the few minutes they were in the room.

The pack had moved to a tiny cabin quite a few miles away, but they had recently decided to move back to their cozy little hole under the giant tree due to lack of space at this new place they’d found. They were still in the process of packing up to move back to said tree, but they now assumed plans would change since you had quite literally crawled into the picture.

All eyes darted to Chan as he walked in, carding a hand through his hair.

“Is the menace finally asleep?” Minho asked, venom in his voice as he tended to his cut-up arm.

“Yeah, I had Jisung mix something up to get her to sleep,” Chan breathed. His thoughts were running at a million miles an hour but he was trying to hold himself together in front of you despite his own confusion, and conflicting emotions and instincts. “I figured if I helped with the pain myself it might freak her out, and she’s already been through a lot tonight.”

“Her?” Seungmin spat, icing his cheek as he sat in a chair opposite Minho at the table. “I wake up to go pee just to see some hunter in our bathroom! And she’s got a fucking right hook, let me tell you.”

“It’s not like she broke your jaw,” Jeongin reminded him, rolling his eyes. "You're not even gonna bruise."

Seungmin shot him a dirty look and opened his mouth to snap back, but Changbin was faster to speak.

“What’re we supposed to do now, by the way?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin looked almost scared, “this is the first time we’ve…had…a mate in the house. What happens next?”

Jisung snorted, elbowing his brother in the upper arm, “What, are you afraid of girls?”

“No!” Hyunjin glared at him. “We’ve just never had a mate here before! I’d be confused no matter the gender!”

“I meant,” Changbin interrupted, “with moving, taking care of her, sleeping situations – stuff like that.”

“Well, moving is obviously on pause,” Chan sighed, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried to organize his thoughts.

Changbin was right, there was a lot to consider now. You were taking Chan’s bedroom, but he was sharing a room with Felix, which meant they both had nowhere to sleep now. There was also the matter of sharing a bathroom, but that was a bridge they’d cross when they got to it, he figured.

“Um…any way Felix can crash with one of you guys?” he asked once he’d removed his hands from his face. “I’ll just take the couch.”

Minho gave him an incredulous look, “No!” his exclamation sounded almost like a question – a very loud question. “You think we can cram a fourth person in either of our rooms?!”

The house was small, and Chan knew it was already a tight squeeze fitting three grown werewolves to one bedroom. Him and Felix were the only paired roommates just because their bedroom was the smallest. The other two bedrooms weren’t much bigger, but he had to figure out something for Felix.

Jisung could tell Chan was obviously stressed, so he quickly spoke up, “W-we can make it work, though. Don’t worry about it.”

Minho’s head whipped around to look at him like he was insane, “How?!”

The younger wolf shrugged, “We could…share beds?”

Minho’s face was quickly transformed into a smirk as he leaned over in his chair, looking up at Jisung, “You just want an excuse to sleep in my bed.”

“I–”

“I accept.”

Felix made a face as he eyed the two, “I think I’d rather crash in Seungmin’s room.”

“I don’t care who sleeps where or with who,” Chan stated, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Everyone just please go to bed now.”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” Jeongin began, “but how are we supposed to sleep with her in the house?”

“She is a werewolf hunter,” Felix agreed a bit timidly, not wanting to upset the alpha more than he already was, but he was wary about having you in the same house as them – especially with how small the space was. “Doesn’t that make her our enemy? I don’t want to sound mean, but…she could…kill all of us in our sleep.”

For the nth time that night, Chan let out a deep sigh, “I mean…technically, no. I barely sense any werewolf hunter on her, so she’s not a huge threat. But…she’s definitely trained to be one, I won’t lie. Still, I don’t think she’s a threat to us.”

“Oh, so we’re just supposed to trust her based on vibes?” Seungmin spat.

“She has the training of a werewolf hunter but do any of you even sense werewolf hunter?” he countered. “But…yes, you’re right. She’s not really an ally either. She definitely knows she shouldn’t feel…how she does toward me.”

The room was silent as Chan’s emotions seemed to finally weigh down on them. They could really see the hurt in his eyes when he said that, and despite how angry or nervous they might’ve been, they felt bad for their alpha. They knew what being denied by your mate could do to a werewolf, so not only could they not even imagine the heartbreak he was feeling, but they feared for his health and his life.

“So…” Minho spoke up slowly, “what you’re saying is…I could maybe take her in a rematch?”

A few of them chuckled, and the room felt lighter again. Even Chan cracked a smile and felt thankful for his snarky brother for at least getting him to do that.

“Just go to bed.”

»»————-　　————-««

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strwbwrrybunny · 3 months ago

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skin. ino takuma.

𝐜𝐰 𐙚 nsfw link, drabble-ish, black reader , creaming, explicit language, underage drinking, cannabis consumption, high/drunk sex, kissing, oral, fingering, age-gap, ino is 21 reader is 18. . . i think that’s all? as always mdni . . .

𝐚/𝐧 𐙚 all fifteen ino fans rise up! but like seriously, he’s so underrated. no one writes about his fine ass.

"boo!"

a cheeky grin pulls across your face as you feel the familiar inked arms wrap around your frame, the intricate designs on his skin a comforting sight. you can't help but lean back into his warm, protective embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. the scent of his cologne fills your senses, grounding you in the moment. with a playful glint in your eye, you turn around slowly, your movements deliberate and teasing. your arms drape over his shoulders, fingers gently gliding into his soft chestnut hair.

he looks so pretty, brown eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief as he gazes down at you. his black beanie is snugly pulled over his tousled brown hair tucked behind his ears, showcasing small silver hoops, two on each side, as well as an eyebrow piercing that catches the light and adds a touch of edgy elegance to his look. his lips curve into a soft smile, making your heart flutter, and you can't help but admire the effortless charm he exudes.

"my dad will kill you if he sees you in here," you mutter against his lips. ino hums, shrugging his shoulders, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he pulls you closer.

"good thing he’s not here then beautiful." he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, you giggle. never did you think you’d be messing around with the pool boy, yet here you were, sneaking behind your father's back doing just that. there was something about ino takuma that you couldn’t resist—maybe it was his mysterious aura, or maybe it was the way you’d always catch him sneaking glances at you while you sunbathed in those too-tight bathing suits. not that you minded him looking, anyway.

your dad would have his neck if he knew ino was sleeping with his precious daughter, which is why you and ino snuck around when your father was out, which was often. the thrill of secrecy added an intoxicating layer to your relationship. every stolen moment felt electric, charged with the risk of being discovered. you relished the way ino's touch sent shivers down your spine, the way his lips felt against yours.

you remember the first time you noticed him, his quiet demeanor and the way he seemed to blend into the background. it was intriguing, and you found yourself watching him, curious about the stories behind his reserved nature. despite his efforts to remain unnoticed, there was an undeniable pull between you two.

ino's lips pressed against yours, soft and demanding, sending a thrill down your spine. you melt into the kiss, fingers further tangling in his hair as his hands roam your back. the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this stolen moment. you pull back slightly breathless, and gaze into his eyes, seeing the same fire reflected back at you.

"you're trouble, you know that?" you huff, tracing a finger along his jawline. ino chuckles, hands tracing shapes on your back. you looked so damn enticing, wearing a pink tube top that clung to your skin, your nipples subtly pressing against the fabric. your leggings accentuated every curve, highlighting the beautiful dips and contours of your body. ino loved seeing you barefaced, never understanding why you felt the need to wear makeup. to him, your natural beauty was captivating.

"and yet, you can't stay away," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. it's true; no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame. there's something about his quiet strength, his mysterious nature, that captivates you. you want to peel back the layers, to understand the man behind the reserved exterior.

"maybe i like a little trouble," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. ino's eyes darken with desire, and he leans in to capture your lips once more. this time, the kiss is deeper, more urgent, as if he's pouring all his emotions into it. you respond in kind, losing yourself in the sensation.

a sudden noise from the front door startles you both, and you pull away, hearts pounding. "dad's home," you whisper, panic setting in. ino's eyes widen, and he quickly steps back, adjusting his beanie.

"i'll go out the back," he says, his voice calm despite the situation. you nod, trying to steady your breathing. as he slips out the back door, you can't help but feel a pang of longing. taking a deep breath, you smooth out your clothes and attempt to compose yourself.

“hey honey,” your dad calls out as he enters the kitchen. “how was your day sweetheart?”

"good, thanks.” you reply, forcing a smile. "just doing some reading."

“that's good. totally forgot to tell you i have a work dinner to go to in a bit, so i’ll be gone for a few hours. will you be okay here alone?” he quips an eyebrow at you as you laugh. “dad, i’m eighteen not twelve. i will be perfectly fine.”

he nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and heads upstairs.you let out a sigh of relief, your heart still racing from the close call. your mind drifts back to ino, grabbing your phone from the counter you send him a message.

dad’s leaving 2nite, bring booze and weed ♡︎ i’ll text u when coast is clear!

ino takuma looked so damn pretty when he was high, brown eyes half-lidded as he nursed the blunt in his hand. he was sprawled out comfortably on your bed, his legs spread out in a casual yet confident manner. his grip on your waist was firm and reassuring as you sat on his lap, creating an intimate connection that made your heart race. the soft glow of the room highlighted the contours of his face, adding to the captivating aura he exuded in that moment.

“your face is so pretty, y’know?”

“so sit on it.”

it was almost comical how fast you began stripping after those words left his mouth, hungry lips on ino’s as he assisted in peeling off your clothing. his hands gripped your hips with a possessive intensity, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. the kiss was deep and demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that sent shivers down your spine. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the raw desire evident in every movement. his teeth grazed your lower lip, eliciting a gasp from you that only seemed to fuel his passion further. it was a kiss that spoke volumes, filled with a lustful need.

“mmmngh,” you’re an incoherent mess as you grind your wet folds across his face, eyes low with pleasure. ino was a man of many talents, and one was eating pussy. the way he’s dragging his tongue over your sensitive cunt has your stomach churning, his hands holding a tight grip on your quivering thighs. ino knows you’re a runner, and rest assured he’s not letting you out of his grip.

“eating my pussy so good,” you breathlessly whine, lips caught between your teeth as you attempt to stifle your moans. the slick sound of your folds meeting his tongue is lewd, ino’s a messy man, a combination of spit and arousal coating his face as well as your inner thighs.

ino moans into you, the deep vibrations making your clit tingle. you fail miserably to swallow back a moan, ino’s cock twitching against his sweats at the beautiful sound. it’s like music to his ears and it spurs him on, teeth grazing your bud, sending waves of pleasure up your back. “inooooo,” you mewl out his name in complete ecstasy, every tug, every nip at the sensitive bud igniting your senses, toes curling in pleasure.

“w-wanna feel your f-fingers inside o-of me,” you hiccup out, mind foggy.

almost instantly, your legs are pulled to each side of your head, stretching you to the brink of your flexibility. ino's fingers move with a relentless rhythm, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, each thrust deeper and more intense than the last. his other hand wraps firmly around your neck, the pressure adding an intoxicating blend of control and desire to the moment.

“such a greedy thing” ino groans watching as your lips latch around his digits each time he withdrawals, “stuffed to the brim with four fingers, yet you still want more.” you moan at his words, knowing he’s right. ino’s name fumbles from your swollen lips multiple times in a daze, he could get drunk off the way your mouth rolls the syllables.

“tell me how you feel baby,” ino coo’s, fingers curling into your cervix, lips attaching back to your clit. the combination of his tongue lazily gliding over your throbbing clit along with his fingers working in relentless rhythmic harmony has you shuddering in pleasure. “so fucking good!” you sob, hands entangling in his hair as he devours your pussy.

“you’re so wet,” ino mutters into you, fingers coated in cream, ass lifting off the bed with each thrust of his fingers. “this all for me?”

“yes,yes,yes. all for you daddy!”

mymanmymanmyman.🫧

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baekhyunsbestie · 2 months ago

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��⸝⸝ sparks and vows (bbh series!) ⊹。°˖➴

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧♡₊˚ s&v playlist・₊✧♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🥂

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 pairing: soloist!baekhyun x reader aka [✶] 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 content: 18+/MDNI. strangers to lovers, wedding!au, angst, fluff, exos and o/c's, pussy whipped baek, ex-playboy baek, ceo nepo baby reader, smut (tbh probs every chapter), language, scenes with alcohol +/or smoking throughout story, pretty tame tho tbh!!! ଘ(ᵕ˵ ૩ᵕ)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ takes place right after the gala, slight exhibitionism? smoking, ex-fiance and his creature appearance, baekhyun’s a panty sniffer/thief 😭, this chapter is p much porn w a plot 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 wc: 5,600-ish? 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 a/n: dvsn has been on a heavy rotation whilst writing this chapter 🙂‍↕️🫣 but this specific song is so s&v bbh coded. also, i made a spotify playlist for this series :) link is above hehehehehehehehe <3 enjoy the filthy smut babes!! this chapter was supposed to be like double the wc but i think im just going to do shorter chapters and make the story have a few more chapters than intended hehe

s&v | mlist | ch.1 | ch.2 | ★ ch.3 try/effortless ★ | next

the after-party for the gala unfolded in a breathtakingly opulent space downtown, one of many jewels among the venues and clubs owned by hana’s family. this year, [✶] decided to actually make an appearance—a rare move. maybe it was the high she got from the gala’s overwhelming success—or maybe it was because she couldn’t stop thinking about baekhyun, his tantalizing performance replaying in her mind.

his voice had been like velvet, smooth and rich as it wrapped around each lyric. every note seemed designed to captivate, but it was more than just his voice—it was the way he performed. the way his body moved with such effortless precision, fluid and sensual, as if he knew exactly how to command the room’s attention. but it was the moments when his gaze would land on her, when he’d purposefully sing certain lyrics while locking eyes, that made her stomach flutter.

his entire performance had left her buzzing, her heart pounding, and she couldn’t shake the sensation. now, as she navigated the after-party, all she could think about was finding him again—if only to tell him how completely he had captivated her, how his voice had stirred something deep inside her that she couldn’t quite explain.

the room glowed with soft, golden light, casting an enchanting shimmer over the crowd. the air was thick with the intoxicating blend of perfume, champagne, and the heady rhythm of music that pulsed through the night.

[✶] moved through the throng of revelers with graceful determination, her presence commanding admiring glances as she weaved across the dance floor. the room shimmered with luxury as guests—from the elite wealthy to influential figures and high-profile celebrities—mingled in elegant conversation. the hum of admiration brushed against [✶]’s skin like a gentle breeze, each compliment light yet resonant, making her feel as if she were wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and affirmation.

her dress—an elegant, flowing red piece that swirled with each step—seemed to ripple like liquid silver under the ambient lights. paparazzi flashes sparkled like distant stars, capturing moments of glamour that would be immortalized in magazines and social media feeds. she left behind a trail of congratulatory whispers and heartfelt compliments, each one a reflection of the night’s success and her undeniable charm.

as she approached the bar, the pulsating beat of the music grew more insistent, a vibrant counterpoint to the murmurs of appreciation that surrounded her. the bar itself was a sleek, modern marvel, its surface gleaming under the spotlights like a polished gem. behind it, an array of exotic cocktails and fine spirits awaited, their colors gleaming enticingly in the ambient light.

[✶] approached the bar with fluid elegance, her movements perfectly in sync with the rhythm of the party. the crowd’s warmth pressed in around her, a palpable buzz of energy and celebration that echoed the triumph of the night.

at the bar, bartenders worked with a practiced ease, their hands a blur of artistry as they crafted drinks with finesse. [✶] leaned casually against the counter, her eyes drifting over the room while she waited. the scene before her was a kaleidoscope of color, light, and sound—a dazzling celebration of glamour and excitement.

her gaze skimmed over the crowd, searching for hana or kyungsoo, but they were nowhere in sight. the club was packed, making it nearly impossible to spot familiar faces in the sea of elegant dresses and sharp tuxedos. the hum of conversation, mixed with the soft clinking of glasses, created a symphony of laughter and voices.

her thoughts wandered, hoping to catch a glimpse of baekhyun. she wanted to congratulate him on his mesmirizing performance, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him again tonight.

her gaze lingered, momentarily lost in the sea of faces and silhouettes, until a familiar figure appeared through the crowd heading towards her. the unmistakable gait, the confident stride, the sculpted physique—each detail as familiar to her as her own reflection. as he drew closer, a radiant smile illuminated his face, the kind of smile that could light up a room. the kind that once meant everything to her.

no, it can’t be.

not him. not tonight.

she feels her breath catch, her chest tightening as mhery eyes lock onto the figure moving toward her. the stride, the posture—it’s him. daniel. she don’t even need to see his face to know. six months of silence, and of course, he’s here. of fucking course, she runs into him now, when she’s least prepared.

maybe he hasn’t seen mhere. maybe he’ll turn around and leave. if she just looks away, he’ll get the hint, right? god, why does he still walk like that—like he owns the damn room?

or she could leave. just slip away before he reaches her. she doesn’t need to do this tonight. she doesn’t need him dredging up the past, reminding her of everything she;’s been trying to bury. but her feet feel glued to the floor, like her body’s betraying her, forcing her to face him.

does she pretend not to care? should she act like she’s over it—over him?

she can’t do this. not now.

but she know it’s too late. he’s right behind her.

[✶] freezes, caught off guard, just as the barista slides her drink across the counter. the glass glints under the ambient light, its cool surface pressing against her palm, anchoring her to the moment. a part of her hopes—prays—that if she doesn’t acknowledge him, if she just ignores the familiar pull of his presence, maybe he’ll disappear. maybe this encounter will vanish as quickly as it appeared. but that’s not how this works, is it?

“it’s nice to see you finally enjoying yourself,” daniel’s voice cuts through her thoughts, dragging her back to the present. his eyes glint as they flick toward the drink in her hand. “i remember how i had to practically drag you to these events. and even then, you wouldn’t touch a drink without a little nudge.”

his laugh follows, a sound that once carried warmth, now piercing straight through her chest. she hates that it still affects her—the way it teeters between affection and teasing, the way it used to make her feel like he knew her better than anyone. but now, it just feels… hollow. mocking, almost.

memories flood back, uninvited. the exhaustion of hosting event after event, retreating back to their shared penthouse, drained, while he would head out to continue the night. she’d always insisted he go, that he enjoy himself, though she never imagined how far he’d take it. a bitter pang twists in her chest, the sting of those nights he’d spent tangled up with someone else—nights that shattered everything you thought you knew about him.

but she pushes it down, swallowing the resentment as she meet his gaze. there’s tension there, the kind that’s never fully settled—nostalgia twisted with a bitter aftertaste.

“nice to see you, too, daniel.” her voice is calm, each word measured and cool. she lifts the cocktail to her lips, the glass icy against her fingers, a contrast to the firestorm brewing inside her. the deep amber liquid swirls lazily in the glass, catching the light in a way that feels almost too fitting for this moment.

daniel shifts on his feet, the subtle discomfort in his posture betraying him. “look,” he starts, his tone softer now, more careful, “i just wanted to say…we should still be on good terms. our families are moving forward with the merger, after all.”

and there it is. the inevitable lee-kim merger, a union that was supposed to be our story. a high-society fairytale, where two hotel empires become one glittering entity. lavish galas, magazine covers, and seamless wealth—it was all laid out like a goddamn hallmark movie waiting to happen.

except they were never the perfect couple. and they both knew it.

she takes another sip, letting the burn of the alcohol dull the edge of his words, the heavy reminder of the life we were supposed to lead, the one that was never truly theirs.

yet now, the once-gleaming promise between her and daniel has tarnished, marred by the weight of their separation. what was once a vision of a dazzling future together now feels tainted by a bitter undertone. the merger—more than just a business deal—has become a symbol of everything that’s unraveled. the dream of a shared empire has transformed into a backdrop for unresolved emotions and lingering questions that neither of them have dared to address.

daniel’s eyes search hers, hoping, maybe even pleading, to find a spark of the easy camaraderie they used to share. but all she gives him is frosty distance, a cold echo of the fractured past between them.

she can’t bring yourself to speak. instead, she looks down at the polished marble floor, her gaze heavy with uncertainty, unable to meet his. the weight of her insecurity anchors her in place, rendering her speechless. all she can manage is a faint nod, her usual confidence momentarily swallowed by the tension of the moment.

daniel’s mouth hangs open as if he’s about to say something else, but before he can find the words, slender arms wrap around his waist from behind. the touch is soft yet deliberate, and a melodious, feminine voice fills the air. "there you are, i’ve been looking everywhere for you."

you watch as a woman glides into view beside him, her movements smooth, almost rehearsed. she emerges from the shadows and into [✶]’s line of sight, a picture of calculated poise. "oh, [✶]," min’s voice rings out with a tone that drips with false familiarity. her smile, though polite, barely masks the disdain lurking beneath. "you did an incredible job at the gala today. i’ve heard nothing but praise. so sorry we couldn’t make it."

her words feel like a slap coated in sugar. [✶] forces a smile, though irritation simmers beneath the surface. "thanks?" the word comes out sharper than she intended, laced with polite defiance. "though i don’t recall extending an invitation to you."

min’s smug expression falters for a brief moment, twisting into a mask of annoyance. the tension between them is almost palpable, hanging thick in the air. after an agonizing beat of silence, [✶] takes a swift gulp of her drink, the bitter taste burning down her throat as she musters the will to escape. she excuses yourself, needing to get away from the disheartening scene that’s unfolding before her.

the weight of everything presses down on her as she walks away—daniel’s betrayal, min’s false charm, the bitter taste of what could have been.

navigating through the crowd, her breath becomes shallow, chest tightening under the crushing weight of her emotions. questions hammer throughout her mind: how the hell could he bring the woman he cheated on me with here? and why the fuck would he even show up at all?

[✶] pushes through to the nearest exit, the door closing behind her with a sharp, final click. the stairwell before her is a stark contrast to the glitzy chaos of the party—quiet, cool, and empty. leaning against the cold wall, she let out a long, shuddering sigh. the air here is cleaner, fresher, and with each exhale, the suffocating pressure on her chest begins to ease. slowly, a sense of calm washes over her, the nerves settling as she savors the silence.

“feeling claustrophobic?” a familiar voice calls down from the top of the small flight of stairs.

[✶]’s heart lifts at the sound of baekhyun’s voice, relief washing over her. “yeah, something like that. i’m not really a fan of these kinds of events,” she replies, a genuine smile tugging at her lips as she glances up at him. she chose not to burden him with her troubles about daniel and his new companion. “what about you? hiding out up here?”

“same as you,” he says with a casual shrug. “just needed a break from all the noise. honestly, i’m not a fan of these things either, but how could i resist knowing you’d be here?”

baekhyun catches sight of the flush creeping across her cheeks at his comment, and his smile broadens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “have you already been drinking,” he teases, leaning in slightly, “or is that blush because of me?” his playful tone makes it hard to keep a straight face.

she raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. “maybe it’s a little bit of both. you do seem to have that effect on me. annoyingly so.” she playfully shrugs, savoring the banter as she holds his gaze.

baekhyun chuckles softly, a twinkle in his eye. “i was thinking of heading up to the rooftop for a quick smoke. wanna' join me? i promise the view will be much more romantic than this cold, empty stairwell.” he tilts his head slightly, inviting her with casual confidence as he reaches his hand out for her.

[✶] laughs, nodding in agreement. “yeah, let’s go.” she slips her hand into his, the warmth of his touch grounding her as he leads her up the stairs.

the rooftop was a bright oasis high above the busy city, surprisingly calm despite the lively party going on downstairs that they had just left. strings of market lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across the space. each bulb hung like a tiny star, twinkling softly to create a canopy of light that transformed the night into a magical dreamscape. cocktail tables dressed in crisp white linens were scattered throughout, their gleaming surfaces catching the light and reflecting it back in gentle shimmers. trendy patio furniture, upholstered in plush fabrics of deep navy and rich charcoal, was arranged in cozy clusters, inviting intimate conversations under the starry sky.

her eyes widened as she took in the breathtaking panorama of the city’s skyline. the lights below stretched out like a blanket of stars, each building illuminated and shimmering against the dark canvas of the night. the air was cool and crisp, carrying with it a whisper of the city’s vibrant energy. this view would never tire her.

she turned her gaze towards baekhyun, a warm smile spreading across her face as she took in the view. the soft lighting casting down his features made him look so irresistible. "you were amazing earlier, by the way," she said, her voice soft but full of admiration. she settled onto the chaise beside him, her thighs brushing against his. “now i get why you’re so popular,” [✶] flirted, her eyes sparkling with playful admiration.

he offered a humble smile, the corners of his mouth lifting in a shy, almost boyish manner. a subtle blush crept across his cheeks, a delicate flush of pink that hinted at his embarrassment. he reached into the inner pocket of his coat with practiced ease, extracting a slender cigarette with a flick of his wrist. as he placed it between his lips, the dim light from the street below caught the gleam of the cigarette's white paper.

with a quick, fluid motion, he shielded the flame of his lighter from the gentle breeze with the palm of his hand. the tiny flame flickered briefly, casting a warm, golden glow that illuminated his face in sharp relief against the encroaching darkness. the light danced across his features, highlighting the intensity of his gaze and the subtle lines of concentration on his forehead as he drew the cigarette to life.

baekhyun inhaled deeply, the ember at the tip of the cigarette glowing a fierce orange. he exhaled a plume of smoke, which swirled and dissipated into the night air, mingling with the shadows around them.

"well, i had to give it my all for my girl, didn't i?" he said, his voice blending playful confidence with genuine affection. he settled back on the chaise, leaning in closer as he carefully offered her his cigarette. "you really set the bar high the last time we met. all i did this week was rehearse for it. i was so nervous for tonight that i hardly slept at all."

[✶] let out a soft, melodious giggle, a sound that seemed to weave through the night air like a sweet, captivating melody. her eyes sparkled with amusement, their twinkle betraying her lighthearted teasing. she raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing smirk that was both charming and provocative. “'my girl'?” she echoed him, her tone light but edged with playful mockery as she takes a drag of their shared cigarette before handing it back to him. “geez, baek, you might want to take a girl out to dinner first before you start laying claim.”

baekhyun’s laughter rang out again, a deep, resonant sound that filled the rooftop with a warm, infectious energy. his voice carried a note of playful disbelief, a blend of incredulity and endearing affection. “whaaaat?” he responded, his tone both surprised and amused, the echo of his voice lingering in the night air. “and what about our night together last weekend, huh? i thought i did a damn good job claiming you then—”

his playful words were cut short as [✶] placed a hand over his mouth, her eyes wide with a blend of shock and amusement. “are you crazy?” she half-shouted, her voice tinged with urgency. “what if someone hears you?” her head whipped around, scanning the rooftop with a frantic energy. the only sounds were the distant hum of the city below and the soft rustle of the breeze. empty, just as they had hoped when they slipped away to this secluded spot.

baekhyun’s gaze softened as he looked at her, really looked at her. the moonlight highlighted the gentle curve of her cheek and the sparkle in her eyes, making her seem almost otherworldly, like a dream. he couldn’t stand the space between them anymore. her soft, inviting lips called to him with an irresistible pull, and he felt a deep ache to kiss her. the brush of her delicate hand against his skin sent a jolt of electricity through him, creating a tense atmosphere between them.

with a sudden, decisive movement, baekhyun stubbed out their cigarette, the ember hissing as it met the ground. he gently but firmly moved her hand away from his mouth, his touch lingering as if he wanted to savor the moment. his eyes locking onto hers, filled with longing and unspoken desire.

he reached out, his hands cradling either side of her face with a tenderness that belied the strength of his touch. the world around them seemed to dissolve into a blur of distant sounds and hazy shapes, leaving only the two of them suspended in this intimate moment. his fingers, warm and gentle, rested against her cheeks, tracing the delicate curve of her jaw with a sense of high regard.

the kiss felt soft and gentle, like the first snowfall, full of warmth and longing. he seemed uncertain about whether he should kiss her, but he couldn’t resist the strong attraction that pulled him closer. his tender touch showed his vulnerability, and the warmth of the kiss revealed just how deep his feelings were.

he braced himself for her to pull away, perhaps even to strike him with a forceful reminder that she wasn’t ready. but instead of rejection, he felt the subtle, reassuring pressure of her lips moving in harmony with his. her response was a silent affirmation, a gentle surrender as she leaned into his touch. in that fleeting instant, he sensed her melting into his embrace, and a realization dawned on him: she wanted him too.

when he finally drew back, giving them both a moment to breathe, his hands remained caressing the sides of her face, as though holding onto the lingering warmth of their shared kiss. "fuck it, let them hear," he murmured against her lips, his voice low and filled with a raw, unfiltered desire. "i'm not trying to hide you."

she looked at him with an intensity that spoke of unspoken dreams and deep-seated longing. in that moment, her resolve crystallized, and she knew she couldn’t bear to keep him at a distance any longer. 'fuck it,' she thought to herself, echoing his words as she grasped his face in her hands. with a surge of urgency and an intense need, she closed the distance between them a second time, this time of her doing. pressing her lips to his with a passion that had been building beneath the surface all along.

what began as a tender, innocent kiss quickly ignited into a blazing inferno of passion. their lips, initially gentle, pressed together with growing urgency, as if they were both starved for each other's touch. hands roamed with a passion that defied reason, fingertips exploring every curve and contour of their bodies. their proximity was electric, the heat between them tangible as he pulled her onto his lap.

the fabric of their garments, once a mere formality, now felt like a stifling constraint against the searing intimacy they craved. soft, breathy moans escaped their lips with every caress, every touch that struck a sensitive spot, sending shivers down their spines. each sound was an indication to the mounting desire that drove them further.

baekhyun’s need was undeniable, pressing hard between her thighs as she straddled him, just as he could feel the heat of her damp core grinding down against him. the sudden friction made his breath catch, his chest rising sharply beneath her. a low hum rumbled from him, sending a shiver down her spine as his hands roamed up her legs, the touch electric. his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her dress, slowly dragging it higher until he could cup her ass fully, giving it a firm squeeze that had her moaning softly into his ear.

his slender fingers dug into her hips, guiding her movements with an unhurried precision, encouraging each roll and grind of her hips against his growing bulge. the wet fabric of her panties soaked through to his slacks, the mix of her arousal spreading with every slow, needy swirl. he knew exactly what he was doing—teasing her, drawing out her desperation, the game as much for his pleasure as it was for hers.

he loved seeing her like this, clinging to his shoulders with trembling hands, breathless and needy, her mind clouded with nothing but him. she whispered his name in broken syllables, the sound like music to his ears, and he reveled in it. every grind, every shift of her body against him brought her closer to the edge, and he knew she was barely holding on.

but baekhyun wasn’t in any hurry. he wanted her to come undone slowly, to make her crave him so completely that she’d be begging for more by the time he finally gave in. and she could feel it—that unspoken promise of what was to come, hanging heavy in the air as he watched her lose herself in the moment, every touch, every grind pushing her closer to her limit.

“baekhyun…” she whines, her voice a soft plea as her hips roll languidly against his, drawing a low, ragged groan from him. his thighs tense beneath her, and the sound is followed by a breathless, teasing laugh as he leans in, grazing his teeth along her jaw. "i know, princess," he murmurs, his voice a dangerous mix of playfulness and promise. "gonna take good care of you."

his dark gaze locks with her, heavy with intent, as his grip tightens on her hips. slowly, but with a clear hunger, he takes control, guiding her body to grind messily against his slacks, each desperate movement sending jolts of pleasure through her. her sensitive, clothed clit brushes over the hardness beneath his pants, and each touch feels like it's designed just for her, like her body was truly made for him.

baekhyun’s lips find her neck, nipping at her skin as her breath hitches, overwhelmed by the intoxicating closeness. "you're gonna make me cum, baek—please!" the words spill out between ragged breaths, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling a sharp hiss from his lips. another desperate swirl of her hips has him groaning deeply, the friction unbearable when she slowly grinds herself down onto his thick, clothed cock.

with a sudden pull, he drags her closer, the carnal need between her both tightening with each passing second. "oh, is that right?" his voice thick with amusement. "don't get too greedy, sweet girl. i’m not done with you yet."

baekhyun’s hands, driven by pure instinct, slide between her thighs. she responds immediately, parting her legs wider to give him full access, a silent plea for more. his fingers brush over her soaked panties, and he lets out a low, satisfied groan, the sensation only stoking the fire burning between them.

he knew how wet she was—he felt it when she was grinding against him, the way her body was shamelessly pressing into him. but now, with his fingers grazing her damp heat through the thin fabric, the reality hits him in a way that has his pulse spiking. she’s drenched, practically dripping with need, and as he slips a finger under the material to touch her bare skin, he realizes just how ready she is for him.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath, voice tight with barely-contained desire. the feel of her slickness against his fingertips is overwhelming, making the moment crackle with intensity. he circles your swollen clit slowly, teasingly, watching her expression twist with pleasure, the way her body reacts to every move he makes.

"you’re so wet for me," he growls, the words rough and needy as his fingers dip lower, collecting more of your arousal. "i could’ve sworn i felt it earlier, but this… this is something else." his lips twitch into a wicked smirk, clearly enjoying how worked up she is beneath his touch.

her hips buck against his hand, seeking more friction, more of him. and baekhyun, ever the tease, obliges—but just enough to drive her wild, not enough to give her what she’s really craving.

"patience," he whispers, his breath hot against her ear. "i'm not finished making you fall apart for me yet."

baekhyun gently laid [✶] down on the chaise, his movements deliberate and tender. he carefully dismounted, kneeling in front of her with an almost reverent gaze. his fingers, deft and sure, began to lift her dress, his touch sending shivers across her skin. he slid her panties aside with practiced ease, the fabric brushing against her skin with a soft whisper.

"baekhyun, w-what are you doing?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and growing awareness. “here? right now?”

baekhyun's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her arousal, her sex glistening with an urgent sheen. with a deliberate, almost ceremonious motion, he lifted her legs onto his shoulders, his touch both possessive and tender. "i told you i was going to take care of you," his face dangerously close to her core. the delicious sight before her driving her to the brink of insanity. "try to stay still for me, my girl," he commanded, his voice low and sultry.

baekhyun's heartbeat pounds in his ears as he instructs her to arch her hips, his voice low and commanding. she complies, letting him slide her panties down her legs with a deliberate slowness. he doesn’t even hide the wicked grin as he brings them to his nose, eyes fluttering closed while he inhales deeply before slipping them into his pocket. the sight makes her cheeks flush with heat.

"perv," she teases, biting her lip to hide the smile creeping onto her face.

“better get used to it,” baekhyun smirks, his voice dripping with sin. and before she can respond, he’s between her legs, wasting no time. she barely has a second to process what’s happening, her mind racing with the realization of just how exposed and vulnerable she is—they are. she glances around the rooftop, a quick check to make sure they’re still alone, but the feeling of baekhyun’s hot breath ghosting over her bare skin snaps her back into the moment.

he licks his lips, the hunger in his eyes making her pulse race. without another word, he leans in, delivering a slow, teasing kitten lick along her slit, and it sends an electric shock straight through her. her body reacts instinctively, arching toward him, desperate for more.

her breath quickens, chest heaving with anticipation as his mouth begins its slow, torturous exploration of her body. his lips trail soft kisses along the insides of her thighs, feather-light touches that only heighten her need. when his mouth returns to her soaked heat, it’s with a new intensity. he groans against her, his tongue swirling with a sinful hunger, and the sound vibrates through her core.

the way baekhyun devours her—his lips, his tongue, the hum of satisfaction vibrating from his throat—has her head spinning. every moan of his is muffled against her, swallowed by her body, while his breathless praises spill out like worship between each kiss onto her pussy. “you taste so good, baby. so fucking sweet for me,” he groans, his words sending shivers through her. “i can't believe i went a week, a whole week, without tasting you.”

it’s taking everything in him not to lose control, but there’s more to this moment than just the physical need. this woman before him is his, wholeheartedly and irrevocably. and it’s not like he hasn’t tasted her before—he had been buried between her thighs just this last weekend, rearranging her insides like the fate of the world depended on it—but nothing compared to this.

this moment right here finalizes it for baekhyun. every doubt he ever had about being in a serious relationship with her? gone. out the fucking window. he can’t go another day without tasting this sweet cunt of hers. without being wrapped in her warmth. and the way she’s responding, grinding herself against his delicious mouth as he devours her like a man starved, tells him everything he needs to know.

[✶] feels the same. she’s never been eaten out like this before—with so much passion, so much raw emotion. this isn’t just lust. it’s devotion, and she craves it, needs it. she’s never going to want anything less–she’ll never settle for less.

he swears the nearer she is to her climax, the sweeter she tastes, and the sight of her unraveling beneath him—her face contorted in pleasure—is enough to make him almost cum in his fucking slacks. this? this is heaven. and they both know they need it, this intimacy, every single day.

her hands tangle into his raven hair, tugging him closer, needing him deeper. the way his lips suck on her clit, the way his tongue flicks and swirls, it's maddening. she feels her thighs start to tremble, tightening around his head as the pleasure builds, her body practically singing with each movement of his mouth.

baekhyun’s grip on her hips tightens, anchoring her to him as he works her closer to the edge. the sound of her moans and the wetness of his eager tongue fills the air between them. he doesn’t stop, won’t stop, even as she feels herself tipping over the edge, until finally, the dam breaks and she’s falling, crying out his name as she comes undone beneath him.

even as the aftershocks pulse through her, baekhyun continues, savoring every drop of her release. his lips never leave her skin, not until she’s so sensitive that she gently pushes his head away, gasping for breath. he pulls back, lips glistening with her arousal, a satisfied grin on his face as he looks up at her.

“god you’re fucking perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride, and she can’t help but smile through the haze of her orgasm. “and all fucking mine.”

[✶] gazes down at baekhyun, her chest still heaving from the high he had just sent her crashing from. his bangs were damp, clinging messily to his forehead, his face slick with a mix of sweat and her release. he looked up at her, eyes hooded with a combination of adoration and raw, unrestrained lust. the sight of him like this, on his knees and completely wrecked by her, sent a rush of heat through her all over again.

without a second thought, she reached out, pulling him up toward her. he stood effortlessly, his body towering over hers as one hand braced against the back of the chaise while the other tenderly cradled her cheek. their lips crashed in a heated, desperate kiss, both of them lost in the moment. the taste of herself on his tongue sent sparks through her, reigniting a fire deep inside. she moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer, needing more of him, of everything.

“take me home then,” [✶] whispered breathlessly, her forehead resting against his, their lips just a breath apart. “take me home and show me how i’m yours.”

baekhyun’s dark eyes flashed, a wicked smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “i thought you’d never ask.”

s&v | mlist | ch.1 | ch.2 | ★ ch.3 try/effortless ★ | next

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun series #exo smut #exo fic #exo series #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fanfic #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #exo fanfic #wedding au #kpop fic #kpop smut #x reader #divider by @cafekitsune #lisawrites #Spotify

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sitkowski · 23 days ago

Text

i will wrap you in cold ( jolly karlsson x noah sebastian )

pairing: jolly karlsson x noah sebastian

cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ description of a character’s death(s), mind manipulation, blood kink, finger sucking, oral sex, anal sex, using blood for questionable things, blood drinking, mentions of past lives.

word count: 4.2k

author's note: the second and only other fic done for kinktober in the concrete jungle, let's get spooky-ish. title comes from "silver and cold" by afi, divider by @saradika-graphics 🕷️

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups

There’s something off about this haunted house the minute he steps inside of it. First, it’s too…nice. It looks like something out of the 1800’s, or that one Backstreet Boys music video. His footsteps echo as he moves through the large foyer, too caught up in the scenery before him to realize that he’s been separated from the group he came in with. Whoever thought this was a good idea is an idiot.

It’s Noah. He’s that idiot.

When he turns back around to find his friends, that’s when he sees that he is alone. Only he isn’t. There��s a man lingering in the entryway where the door had been. He isn’t quite visible in the shadows that he’s standing in, and Noah takes a step towards him just so he can see him more clearly. He belatedly remembers that he’s in a haunted house, and there are supposed to be people in here that scare him.

“Do I scare you?” the man asks in a slightly accented voice that makes the hair on the back of Noah’s neck stand up. “You don’t look scared, pretty boy.”

When he steps out of the shadows, Noah’s first thought is that this man is the pretty one. He doesn’t appear to be dressed like any of the typical scare actors he’s seen in haunted houses before. Leather jacket, pristine white t-shirt beneath it, long hair falling over his shoulders. Noah’s eyes seem to be focusing on little details, like the way that the light catches on this man’s eyes, how he can’t look away from him.

“Where is everyone?” he asks finally.

He thinks that maybe his friends put him up to this, or it’s part of the attraction that people get separated off like this. Maybe he even went the wrong way when he came through the door and off the hallway.

The man looks left and then right, and lifts his shoulders in a graceful shrug. “Maybe you did take a wrong turn, maybe not. Are you alone? You didn’t answer my previous question.”

“If you’re supposed to scare me, you might want to do a better job.”

It’s probably not a smart idea to taunt him, especially when Noah’s got no idea what this guy is meant to do. The house wasn’t the type where he had to sign a piece of paper before going on, but judging it by the outside, something else should be happening. It’s too quiet, too clean. Noah expected to hear background music, see people being chased around with dudes in masks or clowns with chainsaws.

He decides that it’s time for him to go and find his friends, if he can just figure out which way he’s supposed to go.

“Maybe I’m doing exactly what I was meant to, Noah.”

Noah stops, and turns around. “You know my name.”

Maybe he should be terrified. He is seemingly locked in some room with a very beautiful stranger who knows his name. This is the part of the horror movie where the main character realizes that something is very wrong, and they run. But Noah doesn’t run. He just stands there.

“And my name is Joakim. We are not strangers,” Joakim’s voice seems to be everywhere now, like an echo. In the room, in his head. “I’ve been waiting for you, for a very long time.”

His fingers are cold when he touches Noah’s cheek, but Noah feels like he’s burning from the inside out. And he remembers. He remembers everything. The man in front of him is no stranger. It’s been almost three hundred years, and he now remembers that face as well as his own. He hasn’t aged a day. Noah sees it all, it comes over him in waves, the life they once shared. His death; the memories of choking on his own blood, calling out with his very last breath for Joakim who was unable to reach him. Being cold and alone, trying and failing to keep himself alive just a little longer to see him. It nearly brings him to his knees, but there are strong hands keeping him up right.

“Jolly.” The nickname falls from Noah’s lips like a prayer. If someone had asked him an hour before, he would not have known it. Wouldn’t have remembered it. But now, it’s on the tip of his tongue as if it never left. “You found me.”

He grabs onto the collar of Jolly’s leather jacket and yanks him closer, crushing his mouth to his. It’s been a long time, and Noah feels the sharpness of one of his fangs slicing into his bottom lip. Blood runs down his chin, fills his mouth. He doesn’t care. Jolly licks it all away, devouring it as if it’s the most precious thing to him. Noah wonders if his blood tastes to him as it once did all those years ago.

“How? How did you do this?” he asks breathlessly, letting himself sink further into Jolly’s embrace.

Jolly looks almost embarrassed. “I put the idea of coming here into your friend’s head. The one with the pretty eyes? When I realized that it was you, when I knew for sure, I had to get you back—”

“Where are we, by the way? I know that we walked into some old ass townhouse that was rented out for Halloween.”

“Tonight was the only time I could do this. The veil between worlds is the thinnest, and this house is very malleable to my powers. As far as your friends are concerned, you all went through together and left together. By tomorrow morning, it will not matter.”

Noah stares at him. “You manipulated Nicholas to get to me. You manipulated time.”

He never knew Jolly as a human, he had always been evasive about how long he’d been a vampire and Noah had accepted that. There had been a brief moment before his death where he felt bitterness that the same gift hadn’t been offered to him. But it wouldn’t have worked. He’d never known Jolly as human, but Jolly had never known him as healthy. He’d been living on borrowed time when they were together all those years ago.

It’s different now.

“I will not let you go again. I know you might be attached to this life here, but you are mine, Noah. I’ll do what I need to do in order to keep you this time.” Jolly promises.

The thing is, Noah isn’t afraid. He hasn’t been afraid since he stepped foot into this place. He isn’t sure if that’s Jolly’s influence over him, over this house. He should probably be concerned that he pretty much was just told that he was going to die here.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Always in his head, Jolly smiles sharply as he answers Noah’s thoughts. His blood streaks the bottom of Jolly’s face and his fangs. “I’ll have you warm and alive with me, pretty boy. As long as you desire, until the day you wish to be like me.”

He’s always known the right things to say. Noah hates that he’d forgotten, but he knows that it had been another life, long ago, where he knew Jolly. This Noah, he doesn’t know him at all, even with every memory of the two of them together running through his mind in intimate detail. It wasn’t him, but another him.

“Can we…can we go somewhere?” he asks hesitantly.

“We aren’t limited to just this room, Noah. Anywhere you want to be, I will take you.”

It’s probably just instinct that he thinks of his home; the apartment he shares with Nicholas. In a blink, they are there in his bedroom. And this time, Jolly’s unable to keep Noah from collapsing to his knees in the middle of the floor, where he gasps for air and looks around in disbelief. He waits for the bedroom door to fly open, for someone to see him there. But nothing happens.

Jolly crouches down in front of him, brushing his hair out of his face. “Just take deep breaths, you’re alright.”

“What the fuck did you do?” The haunted house was over thirty minutes away from his apartment, but they were there in seconds. Noah’s head swims, and he squeezes his eyes shut until everything feels right again. “New rule, Jolly. No using abilities that could potentially make me vomit all over you. That isn’t very attractive.”

“Sorry, love.”

He doesn’t sound sorry at all. He reaches down and hooks his hands beneath Noah’s arms, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. It doesn’t help Noah’s current mindset. Now that they’re not inside the mansion, he’s thinking a little more clearly. And suddenly trying to wrap his mind around the fact that there is a thousand year old vampire standing in his bedroom, and three hundred years ago, another version of himself was desperately in love with him. Obsessed with him. He’d thought that Jolly would turn him before he died, but he never came. And now, here he is, never having aged at all. It dawns on Noah that he’s the same age now that he was when he died in his past life.

Jolly deposits him on the end of his bed, and Noah watches avidly as he practically strolls around his room. Inspecting things, learning what he can about him by picking things up and turning them over in his hands. He eyes a picture of Nicholas and Noah with something close to jealousy, but he places it back where he picked it up with care.

“You’re happy, in this life?” Jolly asks, not looking at him.

“I am,” Noah reaches for his hand, and he feels a hint of what he felt in the mansion dance between their connecting fingers. “But I’m also yours, I never stopped being yours.”

“That Noah died—”

“What did you think was going to happen when you sought me out in that haunted house, huh? You knew the minute you touched me that everything was going to come rushing right back. You can’t expect to give me all of those memories of you and think that I’m not changed by it all.”

In a move that is anything but human, Jolly is suddenly in front of him, inches from Noah’s face. The color drains from his eyes, turning them an inky black that Noah can’t seem to look away from. His mouth opens, just a little, just enough to show the very tips of his fangs. Jolly inhales deeply, edging his way closer until his nose brushes Noah’s cheek.

“I smell the blood beneath your skin, pretty boy. I smell everything,” the corner of his mouth tilts up a little more, and Noah sees the way his tongue glances off of one of his fangs. “Tell me again that you’re not frightened of me.”

“Never said I wasn’t scared of you. But like you said. I’m yours. So…prove it.”

“I said I wouldn’t kill you. I meant that. But you are mine and I want other things. Things I’m not sure you’re ready to give me so soon after our reunion.”

Noah stares at him impassively. Reaching up, he puts his thumb on Jolly’s bottom lip, nudging until he gets the message and opens his mouth wider. What Noah does next, he does on purpose. Because a memory stirs in his mind; himself and Jolly, bloodied sheets, Noah delirious from loss of blood. He remembers begging him for more, to finally give him what he wanted. Jolly had promised, soon. Noah remembers being pushy to get that answer. So he pushes now.

His thumb slides against one of Jolly’s fangs, and the skin parts easily on the sharp point. Noah hisses out a breath and Jolly growls, grabbing his wrist in a bruising hold, trying to get his hand away from his mouth. But the second Noah’s blood touches his tongue, he’s lost. Noah can see it. He welcomes it. Jolly’s lips wrap around his thumb, and there’s a sting as he sucks on the digit, trying to draw as much blood from the nick as possible.

Finally, he manages to push Noah away, shoving himself back as if to put distance between them. Noah’s blood stains his bottom lip and his teeth, and he all but snarls at him to get out of his clothes unless he wants them torn off. Noah complies easily, enjoying the stunned look on Jolly’s face when he takes in all of his tattoos. He knows that Jolly’s got tattoos of his own now, but there was a time where nothing marred Noah’s skin, nothing but the faint but distinct scars that were in the shape of Jolly’s teeth.

Jolly takes off his own clothes, and Noah’s got vague memories of the feel of this body; memories flow through his mind and he remembers the way his skin felt pressed to his own, the way the cold would seep in, how it felt beneath his lips and his fingers. His head spins with all of the new information that keeps coming back to him, the overflow of feelings that he suddenly has for Jolly, who is both a stranger and the most important being in his life. Whichever life that may be.

“I know you remember how it once was between the two of us,” Jolly says as he stalks back towards the bed. His head tilts, as if he’s listening to the spike in Noah’s heartbeat. “If you’re expecting to leave here in the same condition you entered—”

“This is you flirting with me? Threatening my life after three hundred years?”

Noah’s amusement fades quickly as Jolly crawls over him, pushing his body down into the plush bedding. The room around them seems to distort, and it feels as if all of the air is being pulled from his lungs. Time blurs again, and it’s almost as if the worlds are mixing and melding, because he looks to the left and sees the grand staircase of the mansion, but to the right is his computer desk. Everything grows fuzzy, and his panic rises, even as he writhes up against Jolly trying to get him closer. He’s manipulating him, he knows he is. Not his feelings, but his perception of their surroundings. For all he knows, they never actually left the haunted house. This could all be a dream.

“A dream?” Jolly reaches down between them and wraps his fingers around Noah’s cock, rubbing his thumb over the head. He gathers the wetness there and brings it up to his own mouth, licking it clean. “Should I wake you then?”

Noah protests, trying to at least pretend he’s got the upper hand by lifting himself up to kiss him. Jolly fists his hands in Noah’s hair, crushing his mouth to his, and Noah feels the cut in his lip from earlier split open. The second it happens, it’s like a switch is thrown and Jolly melts against him, kissing him desperately and licking at the wound, until Noah has to physically push him away so he can breathe. This doesn’t deter him, as he starts mouthing his way down Noah’s throat and chest, nipping him here and there. He scrapes his fangs harder against the skin over Noah’s hipbone, and blood rises to the surface quickly. His eyes are locked on Noah’s as he licks it away.

“Answer me this, love?” Jolly asks. His fingers tiptoe over Noah’s stomach, and he leans down and drags his tongue up the underside of Noah’s cock. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

It’s an immediate answer, and it’s probably a lust-addled agreement, but Noah doesn’t care. He just wants Jolly to do something, anything. And he does. Noah feels the sharp pressure of his fangs sinking into his upper thigh for mere seconds, before he’s pulling back and pressing down on the wound so that the blood rises quickly. Noah hisses and fists his hands in the blankets beneath him, waiting and watching as Jolly gets Noah’s blood on his hand. He can feel it running down his leg, sticky and hot, and then Jolly is taking his cock in his blood coated hand, stroking him slowly.

Noah can’t look away. He’s caught in Jolly’s gaze, watching him lick the blood from his cock before taking him in his mouth. He can feel the edge of his fang grazing him, and he lets out a harsh breath, trying not to move. Jolly may be a three hundred year old vampire but Noah knows what those fangs can do and the last thing they need is for him to accidentally gouge him. Jolly’s hand slides over the still drying blood on his thighs, fingers pressing down on the wounds. It’s a quick twinge of pain combined with the feeling of his mouth moving, and Noah wants more.

“You want more, Noah? You have to say it. Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

He hasn’t stopped sucking Noah’s cock. The voice is in his head, bouncing off the walls of the room, it’s everywhere. Just like in the mansion. Noah stares into Jolly’s blacked out eyes, unable to determine what he’s really done to him, and not really caring either way. He doesn’t want the pleasure to end, but he needs more.

“Please, Jolly, please. I need you inside of me right now or I’m gonna die, I swear to God—”

Jolly pulls off him, rising up so that they’re eye to eye with each other. His eyes have darkened as if it were possible. He brings his fingers up to Noah’s mouth, the ones still tacky with Noah’s blood. “Do not swear to your God. You swear to me.”

He opens his mouth to do just that, but before he can speak, Jolly is rubbing his fingers over Noah’s tongue, making him clean the blood off of them. The metallic taste makes his mouth water in a way that isn’t entirely pleasant, but he closes his lips around those fingers, licking them clean and coating them in saliva. It isn’t lost on him that another version of himself probably knew the taste of his own blood, even before he was so close to death.

After a few minutes, Jolly pulls them away, leaning back. Noah’s head spins yet again when he grabs him by his hips and flips him over onto his stomach. He manages to just barely catch himself on his hands, and his eyes flutter closed as he feels the sharp drag of Jolly’s fangs against his throat.

“I’d hate to ruin all of this beautiful work,” he murmurs, leaning up further to kiss Noah’s cheek as he reaches down to slowly push his fingers inside of him. Noah hisses and tries to arch away and Jolly soothes a hand up his back. “Easy, pretty boy. I know, this body doesn’t remember how I made you mine.”

He’s right. Noah’s never done this before, but he forces himself to relax, lowering his chest down against the mattress. Jolly’s free hand pets his hair, whispering words of comfort through his mind. Those words conjure memories of their many nights together, and Noah feels a tear sliding down his face. He’s overwhelmed, but not in a way he doesn’t want to be. It feels like an eternity passes before he starts impatiently begging again.

“I promised you, Noah, didn’t I?” Jolly asks out loud.

Noah nods rapidly and digs his fingers into his own hair. The feeling of Jolly thumbing his cock into him is like nothing he has ever experienced before. The memories don’t do it justice, a steady insistent pressure that makes his eyes roll back in his head. He’s babbling again, out loud, and Jolly makes a delighted noise and rocks into him slowly. He lets him adjust, gives him a few minutes to get used to the feel of him inside. Noah manages another rapid nod, and then he feels a bruising grip on his hips before Jolly pulls out and shoves back in.

He knows he’s not being as rough with him as he could be. He always held back, not treating Noah as if he were fragile, but as if he were human. Even when Noah begs now for him to go harder, he doesn’t. He keeps a deep steady pace, and Noah really hopes that whatever sort of powers Jolly has have soundproofed his room. No one’s come busting in yet to see if he’s dying from the sounds he’s making. The next thing he knows, Jolly’s pulling out of him.

“Why’d you stop?” Noah asks with a whine, only to be roughly yanked over onto his back.

“Because I want to see your face when you come. When I come inside of you. When I—”

“Bite me,” Noah finishes. “I want you to feed from me. I need you to.”

He sounds strung out and desperate to his own ears, and he doesn’t care how much of it is Jolly’s influence over him. A yelp crawls out of his throat when Jolly thrusts back into him, dragging him down onto his cock. Noah starts to reach for his own dock, but Jolly lets out a warning snarl above him and grabs onto his wrists, holding them down to the bed.

“Do you want to know a secret, love?” he leans close. His inhuman eyes burn into Noah’s. “Or rather, do you want another memory that is vital to this moment?”

“What—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish asking before the vision flashes before his eyes; Jolly’s fangs piercing the skin of his neck in one moment and Noah’s orgasm being practically instantaneous in the next. He shakes his head to clear the memory from his mind, before he pushes himself up as much as he can to catch Jolly’s lips with his own. His tongue slides against one of his fangs, not to cut himself but to entice the vampire on top of him.

“Please.”

He presses himself back into the mattress and turns his head to the side. Jolly leans in, brushing his lips over ink on his throat, mouthing his way to his shoulder instead. Noah can’t protest, he doesn’t care where he bites him, as long as he does it. And when Jolly’s fangs sink in, it’s like two points of heat piercing his skin. Blood overruns Jolly’s mouth down over his chest and onto the sheets and Noah comes all over himself. Jolly comes inside of him at the same moment, and Noah screams.

Jolly lets go of his wrists, only to wrap himself around Noah and continue to drink from him deeply. There’s a moment of blinding panic that this is it, this is the moment he dies. He can feel it, and the fact that he already knows what it feels like to die terrifies him. He pushes feebly at him, calls his name until his voice finally makes it through and Jolly removes his fangs. The feeling is just as painful.

Noah blinks up at him, watching the way his blood drips off of Jolly’s chin down onto his chest. “Do I need to get a sharp object?”

“You couldn’t move fast enough to do so, Noah. Not like this.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, before Jolly finally moves off of him. Noah brings his hand to the wound on his shoulder and tries to sit up, but he’s shoved back down easily.

“No. This is my mess to clean up. Stay there and let me tend to you.” Jolly demands.

He doesn’t have any choice but to listen, and he closes his eyes, only for a minute.

When he wakes hours later, it’s daylight out and he’s alone in his bedroom. He can hear movement out in the apartment and he manages to pull himself up out of his bed. When he turns back and looks, he expects to see bloody sheets. But they’re the same normal gray they were before. Turning, he rushes to the mirror above his dresser, looking for any wounds left behind. But there’s nothing. His shoulder is fine, there isn’t a drop of blood on him. He grabs a pair of shorts and yanks them on, stumbling out into the living room.

“There you are,” Nicholas says from the sofa. “I thought you died in there. What happened to you last night?”

Noah feels like he’s going to throw up. Was it all some kind of dream? “What do you mean?”

“I mean I saw some guy sneaking out of the apartment just before dawn. I could have sworn we left at the same time, so when did you find the time to bring someone home? Very hot by the way, ten out of ten.”

“You saw him?”

“Uh yeah?” Nicholas’ expression turns confused. “He said he would see you tonight, he didn’t wanna wake you up.”

Immediately, Noah feels relief. He nods like his reaction was normal, and then goes in search of coffee. He doesn’t know what Jolly did to him to make it seem like nothing had happened, but he was going to have to ask. He couldn’t wait for night to fall.

⇉ taglist

@ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @dominuslunae

@rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @kinseysucks @collapsedglasshouses

@thatchickwiththecamera @th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow

@malice-ov-mercy @itsjustforce @darksigns-exe @baddestomens

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

@collidewiththesavannah @sorrowsofsilence @dsireland86 @fadingangelwisp

#ladymidnightskinktober2024 #kinktober in the concrete jungle #jolly karlsson x noah sebastian #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #jolly karlsson fic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens smut #.ficbysitkowski

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foreststranger · 1 year ago

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BLADE - There’s A Major Problem: I

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(ꜱ) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ you’re dragging around a dead body lol

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』blade x gn!reader ft. silver wolf and kafka as emotional support

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ a kinda (barely) angsty-hurty/comfort-maybe-ish-sorta (?) unpolished short-tiny-small-lazy fic where blade dies so you gotta drag him back home and wait for him to heal himself back to life or wtv

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.9k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ this is based on a dream i had abt him lol anyway i have like 5 diff fics i’m writing and i have only this one finished lmfaooo anyway anyway i also wanted to say sorry for not posting anything in 10 whole days i’ve been a little unmotivated but i’m not gonna be posting for a bit as i’ll be having some family members visiting and unfortunately they speak english and might catch me writing these… HSR x reader fanfics are not something i’d like them to know i write 😍😍 ANYWAY ANYWAY ANYWAY THEY’RE COMING TODAY SO I DECIDED TO CUT THE FIC SHORT MAYBE I’LL CONTINUE IT SOON THOUGH

“Blade, I promise. I’ll always be there to clean you up and take care of you when you’re hurt.”

It feels like years since you made that promise to him. And you regret it. You didn’t know what you were getting into by involving yourself with this man. Blood soaks into your shirt as you look down at him. He’s definitely dead. While you knew of his immortality and regenerative abilities, you can’t help but be a little worried. What if… he doesn’t wake up this time? Blade would certainly want that, but you’re not sure what you’d do without him. His features are soft in the gentle starlight, and he looks… at peace. The only other times you could see him like this were when he was sleeping. After a few more minutes of just admiring him, you remember what you’re supposed to be doing. Your hands grab him from under his arms, pulling him along the cold ground, huffing as you do so.

“Why did you have to go get yourself killed…” you mutter to yourself. Blade is far too heavy for you to carry, so you’re forced to drag him around instead. Even then, it’s a demanding task. Your home was still around a couple of kilometres (roughly a mile) away. You felt like a murderer, bringing around the bloodied body and leaving trails of blood. How were you meant to go back to your neighbourhood like this? Your clothes and hands soaked in scarlet fluid, a dead man in your arms. Under the cover of night, perhaps no one would notice. You grunt as you hoist Blade up a few steps of stairs. Walking backwards, you don’t realize that you’re about to walk into a wall. Until you bump against it, of course.

You crash down to the floor, a piercing pain attacking your skull. Leaning against the wall, you try to lift Blade onto your lap. The effort of lugging him around and the throbbing pain in your head leave you huffing for air. You wipe your crimson hands on your thighs before hugging Blade against you.

“Do you have to be so reckless, Blade…?” You shut your eyes tight, trying in vain to block out the headache. “How am I meant to take care of you…” You hold him close, your face pressing into his back and his dark raven hair.

“I made a promise to you. So, now… I have to take you back home. Try to make this easy for me, okay?” His familiar scent filling your lungs is almost enough to make you completely forget that he’s a corpse as of now. Blood pools around you, soaking almost every inch of fabric covering you. Is it normal for someone to have this much blood? You can’t even tell where it’s coming from, seeming to just flow out of him.

“I love you…” you whisper, planting a gentle kiss on his head. Closing your eyes again, you try to catch your breath before having to drag him off again. When you finally decide to get up, the light of the stars seems to illuminate a path for you, leading the way home. Maybe that’s why they call it Stargazer Navalia.

After a few more minutes of struggling, your pocket buzzes. You’d forgotten that you were keeping Blade’s phone on you. Quickly reaching for the phone, you realize that it could only be one of the Stellaron Hunters.

You put the phone down and breathe out. Both at Silver Wolf’s ridiculousness and in relief that you won’t have to lug around Blade alone anymore. ‘Dear beloved one and only’ is a huge stretch. Though, it was a little nice for her to recognize your… relationship. The Stellaron Hunters were almost like your in-laws, after all.

“Blade? We’re gonna be home soon. Kafka said she’d come help me out.” You can’t help but let out a little chuckle. “I’m so helpless… I can’t even bring you back by myself. At least you’ll be safe soon, though. You’ll be in bed and awake before you know it, Bladie.”

He hated that nickname — saying it reminded him of someone he’d rather not associate with you — but you couldn’t help but call him it sometimes.

Knowing that Kafka is on her way, you decided to settle down for a little and wait for her. But before you can even sit, Blade’s phone vibrates with another notification.

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

#blade honkai #honkai: star rail #honkai star rail #blade x you #blade x reader #/e dance3 #grrr i love indulgent self insert fics so much I can’t stop writing them #.forestfics ☆

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corazondebeskar-reads · 9 months ago

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save your tears

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 18 - too weak to move | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.1k

summary: What would have happened if you went with Joel and Ellie instead of staying in Jackson?

-- I cheated a little for this one but this is an alternate universe scene from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone.

warnings: established situationship, canon-compliant-ish, canon-typical violence, description of wound, description of bodily fluids related to a wound, realistic thoughts about a survival situation, hunting and eating of animals

dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: this is what I call the silver lake alternate version. in my very early draft of the story, you did not stay in jackson. you got mad at Joel for abandoning Ellie and went to the stables in the morning, planning to go with Ellie and Tommy. The rest of the events happened as per canon. However, as I was writing this scene, it became quickly apparent that it was the wrong narrative choice. but just for fun, here's a snippet after Joel is wounded. (stay tuned in the end notes for the one single David line I wrote).

“You can’t shoot,” Ellie says. She won’t look at you. It’s not mean; it’s just another way you’re failing them.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be back,” she promises.

You hate this. But there’s no time for self-loathing. What you can do instead is boil snow.

You creep up to the main level of the house. When you’re sure it’s clear, you crawl through, trying to stay out of sight through any windows. You’re able to scrounge up a few containers of dubious origin and cleanliness but better than your two canteens.

You light a fire in an old ration tin and prop a steel mixing bowl (the best find of the lot) on top. The first round of snow goes to scrubbing out the containers with an unfortunately large sliver from your bar of soap.

It’s a loss, but you can’t risk putting dirty water on Joel’s wound.

Once you have one clean bowl of water, you set another to boil and pull back his shirt and bandages.

It’s bad. You know it, Ellie knows it, Joel knows it. But you have to try. You have to, or all three of you are dead.

Well. Maybe not Ellie. She’s tough and capable. Maybe she could make it back to Tommy without you slowing her down.

You have nothing remotely sterile, so you mentally set aside the next bowl of water for cleaning a scrap of fabric. For now, you try to flush the wound with a slow stream of warm water.

You’ve been talking to him quietly, explaining to him what you were doing, though his consciousness is dubious at best today. But when you start to pour, his eyes snap open, and his hand flashes out to squeeze at the bones of your wrist.

“Joel, it’s me, it’s just me,” you say quickly. His grip is grinding, and things are not going to be helped by a broken wrist. And you know it never really healed right, that breaking it a second time would mean it possibly never working the same again. You try not to panic.

“Joel, please,” you whimper, and he seems to finally recognize you. His fingers loosen, but don’t let go.

“I’m just trying to help,” you say. You feel like the basement is getting smaller, darker, like it might swallow you up. Someone is breathing shakily, and you’re humiliated to find out it’s you.

His thumb rubs against your pulse for a moment. “Take Ellie and go,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking.

Instead of responding, you bring the canteen up to his mouth and let a little water drip into his mouth. His eyes close for a moment.

He purses his lips too soon, a tiny shake to his head.

“It’s okay, I’m boiling more, please drink.”

But he’s already passing back out. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his hair. It’s damp with sweat despite the crystalline spread of ice inside the windowpanes.

Sweat is good, right? It means his body is burning the infection. At least, you think so.

You pause to switch the water so you can get a clean rag. Maybe when Ellie gets back, you can try to ransack the other houses for anything of use.

You wait until you have a full slate of clean water before you drink any. When it hits your tongue, you think you might cry. Pacing yourself is so hard.

He wakes up again when you try to clean the wound with the fabric you’d torn from your ragged t-shirt. Every breath draws bile you have to swallow again and again, a fruitless endeavor that ends with you scrambling to throw up outside, terrified of introducing any other contaminants to his environment.

When you scrub at the wound, he’s awake enough to struggle with the pain but not awake enough to be aware of what’s happening. So he tries to move away, to fight you off.

It’s worth it, you tell yourself over and over. You’re able to get some of the dirt away with some soap, and some of the pus flows, but not enough. You don’t put pressure on it, afraid to push the infection deeper.

The skin around his stitches is puffy, red, and oozing. Dread settles deep. You’re probably going to need to cut them and clean the wound. But not now; you can’t force yourself to at this moment. Plus, you might need Ellie to help in case he tries to fight it.

Instead, you use a clean corner of the rag to wipe dirt from his face and another to try and drip a little more water into his mouth. Suppressing a sob, you press your lips to the burning skin of his forehead.

Ellie comes back a few hours later and a few rabbits richer. She’s skinned and prepped them when she comes inside, and you set to boiling the meat and bones.

The two of you eat the meat, and you spend the rest of the evening trying to drip broth into Joel’s mouth.

It turns into a rhythm. Joel doesn’t get worse, but he doesn’t get better. Sometimes, he wakes and tries to convince you to leave again, to take Ellie and abandon him. Neither of you are very tolerant of his arguments.

Once, when you’re alone, he seems a little lucid. Ellie is out checking traps, and you’re sitting helplessly next to Joel, sniffling. You’ve got squirrel boiling in the little can fire, but it takes a long time, leaving you with little to do but wait.

“Why’re ya cryin’, sweetheart?” His voice cracks from disuse, and he tries to clear his throat.

You’re up on your knees with the canteen to his lips in an instant. He drinks a little and swats it away, reaching a shaky hand to cup your cheek and brush away a tear with his thumb.

“I know y’ain’t cryin’ over me,” he scolds.

It only makes you cry harder, though you scramble to choke it back. You peel his hand from you, holding it for a moment in both of yours before giving it a gentle squeeze and placing it back on the mattress.

“Let me get you some broth,” you mumble, wiping your eyes on your dusty sleeves.

He lets you feed him a little.

“C’mere,” he says when you’ve reluctantly stowed the broth. He tugs you to his uninjured side, and you have to squeeze your eyes tight as you gently curl to him. “Remember when you used to be a good girl and do whatever I’d tell ya?”

“We’re not leaving you, Joel.” You’re so tired of this conversation. Actually, you realize as his heat seeps through your clothes, you’re just so tired.

“Even though I was gonna leave you?”

“Shit, you’re right,” you say and watch exasperatedly as he has the nerve to look a little hopeful. “You nearly leavin’ me behind in the safest place you know is the same thing as leavin’ you to rot in a random filthy basement.”

“Stubborn brat,” he grumbles before he falls back into a fitful sleep.

BONUS — The one line I wrote for a scene with David:

“something rude,” says David.

*title from "Save Your Tears" by The Weeknd

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #febuwhump #fic: you know you never stood a chance

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x-aefx · 1 year ago

Text

ONE TIME THING - BELLA RAMSEY (Final Part!)

Summary: unbeknownst to you, you meet actor Bella Ramsey. You two hit it off but your paths lead two different directions.

Bella Ramsey x female reader

Taglist: @evieguhbyebroski @amberputh @assgardangod @nymwritespoetry @mainslutsblog @obsessedmunson @guacala @that-one-little-soybean @overtrred28

★

One week later(ish)

"Daenerys or Jon?"

"Jon"

"who should've ended up on the Iron Throne ?"

"Lyanna Mormont."

"Game of Thrones or the Last of Us?

"impossible question."

"wise choice."

"thank you."

You stared dumbfounded as your best friend fired question after question at Bella. It had been going on for at least ten minutes, you felt sorry for Bella. You and Bella sat on the couch, whilst Aaron sat on the armchair beside it, he leaned forwards in his chair, staring Bella down as he asked her questions he deemed "excruciatingly important."

Bella didn't seem bothered by the almost interview like conversation with Aaron. Rather, they found it amusing.

"can you please stop interrogating my partner, please?" You almost begged. You had been silently watching the ordeal, not expecting it to last this long. You were leaned back on the couch, looking at Aaron unimpressed.

Bella chuckled as they looked at your bored face, Aaron glared at you but nevertheless he stopped with the questions.

"it's important to find out what kind of a person my best friend is dating. You'll be grateful one day, if they turn out to be a murderer." Aaron picked up his empty mug, standing up and going to the kitchen to refill it with coffee.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics.

Bella hummed sarcastically, "I'm afraid I'm just a regular boring person. Not a murderer." They called out after at Aaron.

You watched as Bella turned their body around to face you. They smiled at the almost pitiful smile that you were sending them.

"sorry about him. He's a big fan of your work." You said apologetically.

Bella shook their head, leaning in closer to you and placing a light kiss on your cheek. "I don't mind." They said truthfully, looking up at you and giving you a smile.

You felt your face redden, like it always did. A gesture as small as a smile could make your heart plummet, and your legs give out. You hated it.

Bella rested their head on your shoulder, their body cuddled up to yours on the couch. You wrapped an arm around their waist, as they had theirs around your stomach. Your chin rested on their head.

"seriously? Why have a fridge, if you're not going to put food in it!" Aaron complained from the kitchen. The sound of keys being picked up from the counter was heard, then the sound of footsteps.

"Get chocolate digestives!" You called out, just before you heard Aaron shut the front door after him.

Bella moved their head to look up at you, a raised brow and an amused grin on their face.

"shut up, you eat cereal with orange juice for breakfast." You interrupted whatever remark they were going to say.

Bella groaned. They burried their face in your hoodie, letting out a sound of annoyance. You had told Aaron about the discovery, and since then Bella hasn't gotten a break.

"maybe if you would try it, you would understand why!" Their voice was muffled by the fabric of your hoodie.

You hummed, knowing you would never try it.

Lazily you flicked through the channels on the Tv, not finding anything good to watched you eventually turned it off.

You kept yourself occupied by playing with Bella's rings. They were thick and silver, two on their left hand and one on their right. You twisted them around their finger, admiring the patterns engraved on each of them.

"I always make sure to wear them when I'm doing interviews, or going to any events." Bella spoke up, their face still burried in your hoodie. "they help me when I'm feeling anxious, or need something to fiddle with. But I suppose you'll be with me for that instead. We can stay in a corner together." You felt them smile.

"i can't wait to hide in a corner with you Bella." You laughed, removing your fingers from their rings, and intertwining your hand with theirs instead.

Bella looked up at you with a large grin adorning their face, causing you to smile back just as wide. They leaned up, so their forehead was resting on yours.

"I'm so happy you sat beside me on that bus." They whispered.

"I'm so happy you stalked me at my work place." You smiled teasingly at them. Bella rolled their eyes, but their smile remained.

"It was hardly stalking. It was just a coincidence." Bella shrugged.

You quirked a brow, showing them you didn't believe their words. Bella didn't argue back, knowing you were too stubborn to believe them.

Instead of talking, Bella kissed you. Their kisses were soft and slow, different from how all your previous ex's kissed you. They were gentle, every touch from them sending you into a spiral of nerves. The good kind, the kind you got addicted to.

Bella moved so that they were hovering over you, their hands on either side of you to support their weight. They cupped your jaw with their hand, caressing your face with their thumb. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise as their cold ring met your warm skin.

"I forgot my wallet!"

The silence and peace you and Bella were trapped in, was interrupted by the door swinging open and Aaron's voice filling the home.

You pulled away from Bella, smiling sheepishly at them.

Bella groaned, dropping their head into the crook of your neck. You laughed at their attitude, combing your fingers through their soft wavy hair.

Aaron grabbed his wallet from the kitchen table, before walking out of the house completely oblivious to what he had interrupted and the frustration radiating from Bella.

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e-dubbc11 · 11 months ago

Note

Happy Winter Sleepover! ❄️

What about Little Anna & some Winter fun!?!

“Tracking down your mittens, hats, scarves, heavy socks before heading into the cold”

“going sledding together and ending up in the snow”

& “Unexpected snowball fight” bc of course Frank needs a reason to “help” Anna win of course 😂

Hellllloooooo my lovely!! I’m really trying to keep these on the shorter side but I can’t seem to do that but more Anna Raven is never a bad thing so I hope you like this one. (More Irreplaceable is coming too) Thank you for sending this one in, I do love writing for this family ♥️

Snow Day

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo x F! Reader; supporting character(s) Frank Castle

Warnings: All the fluff

Word Count: 1.9K-ish

Summary: Pretty self explanatory but Anna is VERY excited for her first snow day and excited she gets to play with Mom, Dad, and Uncle Frank.

Part of The Sweetest Pain Series

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“It’s snowing, Mommy!!” She squealed with excitement.

Anna Raven pointed her chubby little finger toward the full length windows as she stood next to you while large flakes of snow floated past your faces, some of them kissing the glass on the way down. It was falling like confetti from the silver clouds up above and she had the look of pure joy on her face.

“Yes it is, baby girl! And we’re supposed to get a lot of snow later so maybe tomorrow we can go to the park and play. Does that sound like fun?” You asked.

Anna was clapping her hands and jumping up and down; she was so excited.

“Can Daddy play too?” She asked.

Bending down to her level, you looked into her big brown eyes that were just like her father’s and with a warm smile, replied “I’m sure Daddy would love to play in the snow with us. I just hope he makes it home later because it’s starting to fall faster.”

The city down below was slowly turning into a clean blanket of white. It was always very peaceful watching the snow fall down onto the hectic streets underneath from inside your warm apartment.

The naked tree branches were frozen and snow was starting to pile up which cast twisted and knotted shadows on the ground. Frost patterns that had started to form on the windows shined as the soft warm light from inside your home lightly touched them revealing their unique patterns.

“Pretty…” Said Little Raven as she gently touched the glass with her finger, pointing at the snowflakes that were stuck to the window.

This snowstorm was reminiscent of the day Anna was born. The snow was light but it came down hard and fast; you almost didn’t make it to the hospital in time for her arrival and Billy also came dangerously close to missing his daughter being born.

Now, almost four years later, you looked down at the beautiful little girl you and Billy had brought into the world and could not wait to play with her outside on her very first snow day.

Now if you could only remember where you put all of your winter outerwear…

After only a couple of hours of worrying, Billy did make it home that night. It was late and Little Raven had already gone to sleep but he did make it home safe. His flushed frozen cheeks didn’t stop him from flashing that perfect smile at you as soon as he walked through the door.

All he wanted to do was hold you, shower, and go to bed but not before peeking in on Anna to watch her sleep for a few minutes. His client had been difficult and exhausting.

When Billy suggested he finish the tattoo another time on account of the snow, his client became testy and complained how long he had to wait the first time for an appointment. He didn’t want to wait for another one so Billy stayed to finish it and he was completely out of gas by the time he arrived home.

Another wide smile stretched across his face when you told him how excited Anna was to play in the snow tomorrow. You were excited for Billy too; this was the kind of thing that he never got to experience when he was a child but he is able to now with his own family.

Before falling asleep, Billy whispered “Oh…Frankie said they’ll be over in the morning. They already canceled school so we’re all gonna have a snow day. Sound good, sweet girl?”

“That sounds perfect, handsome.” You said.

The Next Morning

You felt like your head barely hit the pillow before you heard little feet hit the floor. Anna ran to the living room to look out the window before she came charging into your bedroom.

“Mommy! Look at all the snow!! Wake up, Daddy!” She yelled, pulling on Billy’s arm.

“Alright, little miss. We’re awake.” Billy said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and letting out an extended yawn.

“I gotta go potty.” Don’t go play without me.” Said Anna.

The two of you chuckled.

Billy gazed at you, his eyes shined like two pieces of onyx as he inched closer to give you a kiss. His long agile fingers danced up and down your arm that was sleeved as he said, “You have really nice tattoos. Your artist is really talented.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks and a smile stretched across your lips. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Russo?” You asked.

“Maybe.” Said Billy, with a devilish smile on his face.

“Well you can flirt with me later, I’m sure Frank will be here soon.” You said.

Billy tossed the blanket off of his body. “You’re starting to know Frankie the way I know Frankie. And I’m pretty sure you’re right. We better get up but first I’m gonna give you one more kiss.”

As soon as Billy’s lips touched yours, you heard three loud raps at your door.

“Rise and shine, Russo’s! Let’s go!” Frank boomed from behind the front door.

You helped Little Raven in the bathroom before she ran out into the living room.

“Uncle Frankie!!!” Anna screamed. “You see all the snow!”

Frank picked her up and placed her on his hip. “I did, Little Raven. Go with Mommy and get dressed so we can go play. I’ll try and wake your dad up with some coffee.” Frank said, as Billy emerged from the bedroom, his raven colored hair was all over the place.

“I had to hunt for it but I found all the winter stuff; I’m gonna go get her ready. Time to get dressed, lieutenant.” You said. The bristles of his beard tickled your lips as you kissed him on the cheek.

“Roger that.” Billy replied, lightly smacking your ass as you walked past him.

It was still snowing a little when you arrived at the park. The air was cold; it made your breath visible as you all walked to find a decent hill to sled down. The sound of the snow beneath your feet made a slight crunching sound. Peeking out from behind the clouds, the sun shone down onto the snow covered surfaces making everything appear brighter.

It was beautiful.

Listening to Junior and Lisa laugh as they pulled Anna around on one of the sleds was music to your ears and you watched as Billy and Frank go from what you thought would be an innocent snowball toss to a full blown snowball fight; it made you laugh.

This is the family life Billy deserved to have; it’s the life you deserved to have. Lisa gave Anna a snowball that was so big she had to hold it with both hands while Frank picked her up and told her to put it down the back of her father’s coat.

With snow clinging to her eyelashes and the ends of her dark brown hair, you watched Anna play, throw snowballs, and she even helped build a snowman. She rolled a ball of snow until she couldn’t push it anymore; you helped her after that but she was so pleased with how much she did herself.

“Dad, I found a hill we can sled down…over there.” Junior pointed to a spot in the park where a lot of kids were sledding.

“That’s a little steep, isn’t it?” Frank said.

“We can do it, Dad.” Lisa said.

“I meant steep for Little Raven.” Said Frank.

“I’ll go down with her, she’ll be fine.” Billy said, looking over at you and giving you a wink.

You just smiled and said, “Well I kinda need to see this.”

Your toes were starting to get cold despite wearing the warmest socks you could find. Also, it might have been a good idea to take Billy up on the hand warmers he offered you.

Next time you would; everyone seemed to be winding down anyway and Anna would need a nap soon but you watched as they all trekked up the hill, sleds in tow, and little Raven on top of her father’s shoulders.

She looked so excited.

Billy firmly placed Anna in front of him, making sure there was no possible way she could fall out. Junior was going down by himself; Frank and Lisa were in the sled next to Billy. It looked like they were going to race to see who could get to the bottom of the hill the fastest.

You waited at the bottom of the hill for them, out of the way so you wouldn’t get run over by other people in their sleds. They pushed themselves forward and took off down the hill. Gaining speed, Junior was in the lead with Lisa and Frank catching up.

It looked as though Billy was so concerned about Anna falling off, that he got distracted and three quarters of the way down the hill, he fell off the back but Little Raven remained upright and slid almost right to you.

The smile on her face was probably the biggest smile you had ever seen her make. It took up her entire face; it was Billy’s smile.

Billy, however, was not smiling.

“Look at you! Did you have fun?” You asked Anna, scooping her up into your arms and kissing her flushed cheeks.

“Where Daddy go?” She asked.

Frank and the kids couldn’t stop laughing. Billy had snow covering his black beanie, the tips of his long dark lashes had snow stuck in them, and snow covered the back of his black jacket. You tried to control your laughter but you couldn’t.

“Well baby, Daddy fell off the sled.” You said, biting back a smile.

Billy trudged up to you with a scowl on his face. “Oh it’s sooooo funny isn’t it.” He said sarcastically.

“Daddy ok?” Little Raven asked with concern in her tiny voice.

“At least someone is concerned for my well-being.” He said as the scowl disappeared and a slight smile took its place.

“Oh come on, Bill. You fell off the back of a sled, not off a cliff.” Said Frank, still laughing.

“Yes baby, Daddy’s ok. His pride is just a little hurt, that’s all.” Said Billy.

With his lip curled into a half smile, Frank said, “Well I gotta hand it to ya, Bill. You managed to fall off without tossing Little Raven out of the sled. I don’t know if that’s skill or luck.”

“You ok, handsome?” You asked with Anna sitting on your hip.

He inched closer to you and kissed your forehead. “I’m fine, sweet girl.”

Anna let out a long yawn, the tip of her nose was cherry red, and her eyes were almost halfway closed.

“Looks like someone’s tired.” Frank said with a warm smile.

“Who wants hot chocolate?” You asked.

Junior and Lisa’s hands shot straight up in the air.

“I do! I do!” They both said in unison.

“Ok, we’ll have hot chocolate at Uncle Billy’s and Auntie y/n’s so they can put Little Raven down for a nap. Then we’ll go so they can have a nap too. Can’t give Anna a sibling without a nap, right Bill?” Frank whispered with a wink.

You playfully rolled your eyes while Billy nudged Frank’s arm.

“Real smooth, Frankie. Real smooth.”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x female reader #billy russo au #tattoo artist billy russo #the sweetest pain #winter sleepover 2024

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imperator-titus · 4 months ago

Text

Hey my fic is done!

This is it, and it's long! Thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, comments (<3), bookmarked/subscribed, and so on! I enjoyed writing again, and might be thinking of writing something else soon-ish. If you enjoyed the story, PLEASE feel free to leave a comment, or hit me up somehow to talk about the fic or other stuff! (Please, I'm lonely.) If you haven't read in a while, you might be unaware that I edited the beginning of the fic, so maybe check that out! There is also a spotify playlist I made with the same title as the fic, if that interests you! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Text for those not on Ao3:

You have been formally invited to Ramazith’s Tower in the Upper City of Baldur’s Gate for an evening of dinner, dancing, and friendship. Formal attire is welcome but unnecessary.

“There’s… quite a few people here,” Astarion remarked with a little bit of trepidation. All around them bustled familiar faces, dancing to jaunty music and talking with plates piled with food in their hands. The tower was lit up with floating candles, shiny baubles, and ribbons. Lorroakan was probably rolling in the ditch Rolan left him in to see this celebration being held in his former sanctuary.

“Rowan convinced Rolan to take in the refugees from the Grove and some of our other friends,” Shadowheart explained after a chuckle, sending a little wave to Mayrina. The young woman seemed stuck between wanting to eat every single thing on the buffet table and never touching another crumb.

“Yes, that sounds like Rowan,” Astarion mumbled, watching Leon dance with his daughter. Victoria was dressed like a little princess, her hair done up in extravagant curls and bows. He never cared for the girl before, but now it filled him with a little bit of hope to know she was free from the Szarr Palace.

So many smiling faces, all in one place, because of them. Smiling as if the world might not end tomorrow.

People knew his name. They were thanking him, wishing him luck. What a strange feeling.

When he found Rowan, he almost didn’t recognize her. The ensemble was entirely black, save some accents on the cuffs and some jewelry. The only dressing-up he’d ever seen her do, aside from wearing the necklace and ring he gifted her. Instead of rising up the neck like his, her jacket collar laid flat against her chest. Black slacks in some sleek material hid the top of her black boots, one of the pairs he had made for her. Underneath the jacket was a black shirt whose collar hugged her neck, tucked into her trousers and hidden with a black silk sash decorated with a silver and red pattern. Holding the collar closed was a black cravat with a waterfall of lace and pinned to the center was… a red gem in the shape of a drop of blood and little bat wings?

“My love, where in this gods-damned city did you find this outfit?” Astarion asked in utter disbelief as he approached. The huge smile she flashed him and the proud stance she was using to display herself disappeared in the face of his apparent criticism.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that the jacket was made of brocade, the pattern made with a slightly shinier black thread that created a subtle texture when light hit it a certain way. Part of what he thought was a shirt was in fact a vest of flat black with silver buttons. At her suit cuffs were silver buttons with red gems at their center. Her hair was freshly cut, the sides returned to their near-scalp length and the rest swept back at perhaps ear-length. Adorning her ears were, well, ears. Silver wire and red gems made up an extension to her ears to make them closer in shape to an elf’s.

“You don’t like it,” Rowan said quietly in embarrassment, unable to look at him. Her lips were colored slightly more red. He could see the chain of the necklace he gave her poking out under her cravat, worn to keep him close but hidden to not clash with the overall look.

“No! I mean yes! I mean- agh!” Astarion took her hands in his, which prompted her to look up. Grinning, he spread her arms out so he could get a better look at her outfit. “Maybe not exactly to my taste, but the more I look at it… It’s-”

“Fresh?” she asked hesitantly, but hopefully.

“Yes. Fresh . New, but with a hint of old. But most importantly; do you like it?”

“I was worried it was a little much…” Rowan’s cheeks turned red and she looked down at the floor. “I’m rethinking the ear cuffs.”

“I appreciate the obvious influence I have on you,” Astarion told her softly, letting her go. “Who do I have to thank for this lovely view?”

“Rolan.” Astarion tilted his head and she chuckled. “It’s an illusion. I drew it and he changed some clothes for me. Tried to make it a bit like the fashion back home.”

Astarion touched the pin on her cravat and with a smirk he said, “Well, I think you look ravishing.”

“Thank you… I feel silly, but knowing you like it makes me feel a bit better.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re happier when wearing a different skin.” Taking gentle hold of her chin, he pressed his cold lips against hers. Leaning only a few inches away, he whispered, “I’ve grown quite fond of it.”

Rowan was stunned for a moment and then broke into laughter, waving him off. It would’ve irked him before, but now he knew that he’d hit just the right tone and remark to fluster her without making her angry.

“I’d invite you to dance, but I have two left feet,” Rowan told him shyly. Astarion smirked and made a soft sound of amusement in the back of his throat.

“We should have gotten more lessons with Wyll. Who knew the end of the world would involve so much dancing?” Then he offered her his hand. “I would be honored to have you by my side tonight. Dance or no.”

Rowan slipped her hand into his. “At least if everyone dies, no one will remember we made fools of ourselves.”

“That’s the spirit.” Leaning in, Astarion whispered, “Now. Show me where Rolan keeps all of the good stuff.”

----

In the morning, Astarion greeted the sun as it came through the tower’s windows. After putting on his armor and draining a whole barrel of Rowan’s blood, he headed downstairs to meet up with the others. She intercepted him before he got that far.

“I thought you’d be with the others.”

“I already saw them. I came to give you something.” She took out a small leather pouch and opened it to reveal some marbles. They were of varying sizes and softly glowing blue. “These have some of my magic in them. You should be able to break them and it’ll help you. I tried one, it summoned some sort of spirit.”

It felt weird, holding a manifestation of her mysterious power. It occurred to him that some of it might have once been Cazador’s. Ironic to have his master protecting him now.

“I gave everyone some, but this is just for you.” She presented him with a sash of the blue-white yarn he'd seen her spinning and knitting in her downtime. She secured it around his bicep like a lady giving a knight her favor. “This has protected me before. I call it fateweave, even if it, well, isn't woven.”

Astarion felt a little overwhelmed. The coming fight was finally real to him. Eyes shut tightly, he took her in his arms and crushed her into his chest. “I promise to come back.”

“You will.”

“Because you can see the future?” he asked a little facetiously, a small smile on his lips.

“I only know the possibilities. I just trust the chances.”

Astarion touched the fateweave tenderly, his smile widening at one corner. “Well, I feel a little less terrified knowing our resident expert isn’t hanging crepe.”

Despite Rowan’s encouraging words, Astarion didn’t always feel so confident. Trudging through bloody sludge, mounting crumbling noble houses. Stepping onto a giant floating brain with a red dragon in his face and mindflayers between them and their goal.

The first time he tried one of Rowan’s little gifts, it was small. He broke it between his fingers and for a moment, he thought it was a dud, as all that came out was a wisp of light. That light turned into a raven that drilled itself with impossible speed through a cultist’s eye, killing them. He briefly caught glimpses of his companions using the beads to heal wounds, summon similar spirits, or imbue them with extra strength. They were probably all a little surprised at, and more grateful for, their little camp follower.

When things felt a little dire in the ruins of the city, and he was sure that he was being dealt a killing blow, the fateweave turned the spell or blade aside. Each time it got a little shorter, like a dandelion shedding its seeds in a strong wind. The biggest of the beads summoned a horde of screaming berserker warriors, lashing out at any foe in their way.

Withers was right. The arrows Rowan forged for them were quite useful, if unorthodox.

With the brain defeated and their bodies hurtling out of the sky, Astarion wondered how Rowan saw this all ending. He felt a brush of something electric on his cheek and thought of her. Did the others, her friends and protectors, feel it too and wonder if it was her?

Thank the gods they made sure everyone could swim. Thank the gods he didn’t need to breathe, but not everyone had that luxury. On the docks, their victory was short-lived. Astarion could feel his cranial passenger die at the Netherbrain’s orders.

Then the sun came up from the horizon. It burned. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. That familiar flash of searing pain as the holy light found his undead skin. He had no choice but to run. He didn’t stop until he was in a hole deep enough in the docks that only the barest rays of sunlight could be found.

Astarion dropped onto the ground, wet and malodorous, and wept. His time in the sun was so short compared to how long he’d gone without, but it meant so much. It hurt so much to have it ripped away, even when he knew it would happen.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure something out,” Rowan said to him gently and that electric tingle ran along his back. Shocked out of his self-pity, Astarion lifted his head from his hands to see the shape of Rowan beside him. It was less detailed than Gale’s mirror image and it was only blue-white in color. It was attached to him by the sash she’d tied around his arm. He could see it smile.

“Is this really you or am I going insane as well?”

“It’s me.” Her image touched his hair, but didn’t move it. It was as if she was speaking to him from across some great distance.

“It hurts,” he sobbed. “I had to run . It was humiliating.”

“They’re your friends. They won’t think less of you.”

They sat for some unknown amount of time in that horrible place. Astarion alternated between shuddering sobs and telling her bits of the adventure that he could remember. She sat and listened, offering sounds of shock and amusement when appropriate. Gods how he wished they were back in that wizard’s tower, the windows blacked out, their bodies interlocked on the freshly-made bed.

“If you want… I can try to protect you from the sun. Just until you get back,” Rowan eventually suggested. From the sound of her voice, it seemed she missed him just as much. “I don’t know how long it’ll last. If you’re careful and stay out of the sun as much as possible it’ll work.”

Astarion did just that. At first, he hesitantly stuck his hand into the sun. It burned for only a moment before it stopped. As he raced through the streets, dodging wailing widows and rubble, he tried to stay in the shadows. Eventually, he managed to get to Sorcerous Sundries.

“Well, that explains why she told Rolan to move everything valuable…” he muttered to himself in the safety of shade. Only the first floor of the building remained. Thankfully, the portal back to Ramazith’s Tower was still intact.

The tower was a flurry of activity as people made plans to help the city or repair damage to the tower itself. Some of them were even busy making food, discussing feeding the valiant heroes of the day and also Baldurians who were now refugees in their own homes.

Unconcerned about all that, Astarion took the portal to a higher floor where Rowan and Rolan spent the day controlling the tower and monitoring the group as they pushed through their final battle.

If it was possible, all of the blood would’ve drained from his face, leaving him paler than ever.

In the middle of the floor, in the middle of his huddled companions, was Rowan. Unmoving. Streaks of black ooze running down her face, from her mouth, her nose, gods her eyes, like tears. Her skin was marked with welts, healed but clear, making red-raw spider webs across a pale background. Halsin and Shadowheart knelt beside her, looking resigned. Rowan’s head laid in Gale’s lap and the wizard was very gingerly petting her hair like he might Tara. Rolan was nearby, flinging books around haphazardly, his voice strained and beyond understanding.

Whatever happened here, they hadn’t told the people sheltered in the tower. None of them said anything to him about this, only greeted him with excitement when he stepped out of the first portal.

Astarion was on his knees, unable to touch his love for fear that he might break her. He didn’t understand what he was looking at. He could hear her shallow breaths, the steady beat of her heart, but there was nothing in her eyes.

“Why haven’t you done something?” he snapped at the healers. They were too tired to flinch.

“We’ve tried everything we know,” Halsin answered, unable to sound reassuring. He was holding one of Rowan’s hands, sometimes feeling for her pulse, but mostly just giving it comforting strokes with his thumb.

“We don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Shadowheart explained further. She moved away to give Astarion space at Rowan’s side.

“Rolan found her standing, but unresponsive, once the Brain was in the Chionthar. He kept everyone downstairs until we arrived,” Gale told Astarion, but his voice was surprisingly quiet and soft. Astarion sometimes forgot that the two were friends before that night in Cazador’s palace. Perhaps they were all regretting that last night’s feast might be the last time they spoke to her. “When we got here, she was like this. She’s been like this for two hours now.”

Unable to deal with this, Astarion asked, “Where are the others?”

When Karlach’s engine started to burn and she was ready to greet death, Wyll convinced her to go back to Avernus with him. He pledged that she would never be alone and they’d find a fix or a cure so she could come back for good. Minsc and Jaheira were running around the city like the folk legends they were, hunting down mindflayers and cultists, saving people in need. Lae’zel had been here, but when it looked like nothing could be done, she went out in search of Astarion.

Astarion grabbed as the fateweave favor on his arm, but it was no more. It was all used up to protect him from the sun. He clutched the spot anyway, vibrating with the horrible pain that was threatening to come out. Fangs extended and a hiss escaped his throat when someone touched him or tried to convince him to let go of her hand.

Then the portal made its characteristic sound and someone stepped out. Victoria, still done-up from the feast, came towards them. Shadowheart leapt to her feet and intercepted the girl before she could see what they were doing.

“Y-you shouldn’t be up here!” Shadowheart warned her, more shocked than angry. Victoria took a step back, looking up at Shadowheart with big eyes. Then the girl extended her fist and opened it to reveal two blue-white orbs.

“I wanted to give these back to Auntie Rowan,” she explained in a hushed voice. “Me and Pa- Papa and I didn’t need them.”

“Oh?” Shadowheart managed to say through her surprise. She held out her hand uncertainly and the girl deposited the beads. Victoria smiled and waved before going back downstairs.

As if possessed by some demon, Astarion snatched the beads from Shadowheart. He was tempted to force-feed them to Rowan, but didn’t want to risk choking her. Instead, he pressed one bead into the palm of her hand and everyone’s eyes went wide as it dissolved into her skin. Frantically, nearly dropping it, he pressed the second one into her hand. A second later, her hand twitched.

“Oakfather be praised. Let us see if anyone else still has one,” Halsin said as he stood, indicating that the others should follow. Gale carefully lifted Rowan’s head from his lap, scooted back, and placed it gently on the floor so he could help. It also left Astarion alone with her, save for Rolan, who was still frantically looking for a spell or some hint as to what happened.

“I don't want to be lonely either,” Astarion sobbed, holding her hand to his cheek. It didn’t feel nearly as warm as it was supposed to be. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

Eventually, the others came back with only a few of Rowan’s beads. Astarion diligently placed them in Rowan’s palm and when he was done, the barest sign of life returned to her eyes.

“I was hoping for more, but change is good,” Halsin remarked, checking her over again. Astarion had to resist the urge to sink his teeth into the druid’s hand. “Time will tell. In the meantime, we should rest.”

Halsin and Shadowheart left, but Gale remained standing over Astarion’s shoulder. Either someone told Rolan to rest as well or he finally expended his energy.

“Halsin’s right, we should rest and regain our energy. We can’t take care of her if we don’t take care of ourselves,” Gale told Astarion gently, earning himself a sharp glare. Gale leaned away like he was threatened, but he wasn’t. He put up a finger. “You want to say I don’t care. I admit, I can be a bit harsh, strike the wrong tone. I assure you, I care. I care very much, about both of you. I was hoping that, when all this was over, the two of you would be my guests at Waterdeep. We all care, very much. But we’ve all been through several hells today, some of us literally, and exhausting ourselves will not help.”

Eventually, Rowan was “awake” enough that it wasn’t like moving a dead body. It took a lot of encouragement to get her to do what he wanted, like stand up and follow him to a bath. They should’ve been giggling, kissing, filled with post-battle excitement. Instead, he did his best to wash her. Nursemaid wasn’t high on the list of possible careers for someone like Astarion.

“There’s a handsome man under here somewhere,” he said to himself, repeating something from long ago that stuck with him.

At some point, Halsin joined them. The druid was worried that Astarion would insist on carrying a burden he had no clue how to bear. And he was right, really, because what did Astarion know about taking care of someone? He wanted to scoff, to say he was too good for this, that he was meant for more. But how could he? It was killing him all over again, how much he loved her.

Was she still in there? Was this just some husk that he would care for until it wasted away? Did Rowan know this would happen all along?

“I should have waited until nightfall,” Astarion said to himself in a chastising tone. “She would be better than this.”

“We don’t know that,” Halsin reassured him, putting down the spoon he was patiently feeding Rowan with to give Astarion the attention he so obviously needed.

“Rolan said that Rowan was suffering everything that her power protected us from. Every near-death, every spell that was just a little weaker.” Astarion took the spoon rather angrily, taking his turn putting soup to his lover’s lips. “If I hadn’t gone into the sun, she wouldn’t have suffered for me. There would be more of that magic for her to reabsorb.”

“Rowan told you to brave the sun. She wanted you to come back here.”

“For what? She’d get better help from those Ilmater priests. Or you.”

“I would care for her, if it came to that. But I do not think that is what you truly want.”

“What would you know about what I want?” Astarion bit back, both words and eyes sharp.

“Rowan is the first thing you have cared for. Loved. I cannot imagine the guilt of turning away from that.” One of Rowan’s wounds broke as she opened her mouth to receive what Astarion was giving her. With a tender touch, Halsin healed it. “I will not lie; it will not be an easy task. It will be easier if you accept help from your friends.”

“Accepting help and running towards hardship aren’t exactly some of my virtues.”

“Maybe it is time you gave them a try.”

Halsin taught him how to care for her, those annoying everyday things that you took for granted when you’re incapable of them. Shadowheart managed to teach him a minor healing spell to deal with her wounds returning every so often. Gale taught him, and Lia, how to cook human food. Interestingly, Lae’zel taught him patience.

There came a time when Astarion just couldn’t look at Rowan. Looking at her filled him with dread. In such a moment, when he couldn’t make sense of his thoughts, he practically dragged Rowan to the gith’s room and left her there without a word. The sun was low in the sky and so, with some careful footwork, he managed to just… walk around the city.

It was a hellhole, obviously. There were still bodies in some places. Rubble was everywhere and you could still hear the sobs of the aggrieved, even after a few weeks.

When he returned, still afraid, still confused, but feeling guilty for running away, he found a most unexpected sight.

Lae’zel was teaching Rowan how to hold a spoon. She would place the utensil in her hand and after a second or so it would fall down with a soft clatter. Lae’zel merely picked it up and put it back in her hand. “Tighten your grip.”

“She doesn't understand you,” Astarion insisted, crossing his arms.

“Halsin says that some people must relearn how to do simple tasks,” Lae’zel explained, watching the spoon totter in Rowan’s hand for a moment before clattering once more. “There has been a small increase in time that the spoon remains in her hand.”

“How long have you been at this?”

“An hour.” The spoon fell. Instead of handing it back to Rowan, Lae’zel flipped it around to present the handle to Astarion. “Now it is yourturn.”

“I know how to hold a spoon, even if I don’t need to.” When Lae’zel didn’t budge, he snatched it from her hand.

Astarion managed to do ten minutes of this game before huffing in frustration.

“I’m not living the rest of your life feeding you,” he grumbled as he picked up the spoon. Forcing it into her hand once more, pressing her fingers down on the handle, he said, “Now hold. The damn. SPOON.”

Rowan held the spoon for three seconds before it slipped out from between her fingers.

Astarion just stared at it. Was this even doing anything? How did Lae’zel of all people sit here and do this for an hour? Was he really that incapable of this simple task?

Sometimes Astarion blamed his bad mood on hunger. Even he could see the moral dilemma of using Rowan as a personal blood donor while in her current state. If he had to eat one more rat in his lifetime, he might actually walk into the sun. Under Cazador, he would have no problem catching the numerous animals running free in the streets, their masters and homes most likely gone. It felt wrong, feeding on something that walked up to him of its own accord, hoping for a treat of its own or just a gentle touch.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to feel bad about draining dry thugs threatening some poor mother bringing home bread for her children or pilfering valuables from ruined manors. Which he then took it upon himself to pilfer. He wasn’t completely reformed. He got a little smirk on his face when he imagined the aneurysm Wyll would have seeing this behavior.

The first to go were Shadowheart and Lae’zel. They told him, while holding hands, that they were going to find some place quiet outside of the city where Shadowheart’s parents could recuperate after their long imprisonment by the Sharrans.

“Well, make sure to say good-bye to Rowan,” he responded, wondering how he never noticed that the two were a… thing. “Not like she’ll notice, of course.”

Next was Halsin.

“It was not my intention to stay so long in the city,” he explained, obviously aware of the impending fallout. “I am returning to Reithwin. I hope to rebuild it into something new, now that the Shadow Curse has lifted. Thaniel tells me that refugees have already started gathering there.”

“Ah, so it’s a numbers game, is that it? One helpless soul versus hundreds of unwashed masses?” Astarion asked him with clear distaste, all of his irritated sass on display.

“I love Rowan, but I’m certain she is in good hands. This is an opportunity to right my wrongs.”

“Fine.” Astarion probably bit the word off a little more than he intended. He’d apologize later. Maybe. If he remembered. He’d write a letter.

Then there was Gale.

“Where’s the crown?” Astarion asked as soon as he saw that Gale’s things were all packed. That could only mean that the crown was retrieved from Chionthar.

“In Mystra’s hands.” Gale chuckled. “I wasn’t foolish enough to bring it here.”

“Foolish?”

“Is it not obvious? You would’ve insisted I use it to fix Rowan. Or you would take it for yourself.”

“Instead you save yourself.”

“Indeed. Becoming a god would have very likely brought out the worst of me. Who is to say I would have helped her? She belongs more to Kelemvor or Ilmater than to a god like Mystra.”

“I never thought the day would come that I would miss Gale of Waterdeep.” Gale was deeply hurt by this, but only let a fraction of that hurt show.

“Well. Here I thought we were friends. I will blame your grief.” Astarion scoffed derisively.

“Save your blame for when I throw her in the Chionthar.”

Gale gave him a very stern glower. “If you have any intention to harm her, I warn you-”

“I’m not going to kill her! I’m going to spend every fucking waking moment of the rest of her years taking care of her. I get a lecture about accepting help and most of it has left! After what? A couple of weeks? She can’t even manage stairs!”

“I understand your frustration.”

“Frustration? ” Astarion asked, eyes wide, body tilted to the side as if to get a better look at Gale. Then he wagged his finger at the wizard. “No no no. You , and eeeeeveryone else, gets to move on. Sure, you love her, but you have a life to get to. Healing to be done, images of idyllic bliss, going back to your families or making new ones. Meanwhile, I have to watch the only family I have die . Slowly . And she doesn’t even know it. She can’t tell me to go live my life! She can’t throw herself into the sea to spare my feelings!”

Gale was silent. Perhaps ashamed. He wasn’t changing his mind, just recalculating how he felt about the situation. Calculating how to deal with the sight of Astarion’s tear-streaked face.

“You are right.” Gale knelt beside Rowan, who was sitting on a cushion on the floor, a book in her lap. At regular intervals, a mage hand turned the page for her. Gale placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She didn’t react. “Get well. I know you will, just as I know that I will miss you.”

Eventually, Astarion would apologize to Gale as well and he would finally accept that they were friends. Just a little bit.

Astarion was often worried. Worried that she was going to choke on whatever he managed to get down her throat. That he would find her at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck. That he’d wake up with his hands around her throat, begging her to die already.

He felt like she was watching him, even if her eyes weren’t on him. She was judging him for leaving her alone for hours while he found opportunistic thieves and murderers to slack his thirst or just to avoid her. With nowhere to go in this crumbling city, the tieflings were still there, and he told himself that she couldn’t be in that much danger. She was judging him for making the same flavorless soup for every meal of every day for a week.

Astarion even avoided her in his dreams. It scared him, what was behind those strange doors that once connected them. Was it blank? Was she still there, normal as ever? Would she scream at him, hate him?

Another morning. Astarion was still in a strange state between his old schedule and the one he developed during their journey. There were about four hours in the middle of the day when he could meditate. Then he would make her dinner, feed it to her, get her ready for sleep, and leave for the night. When he got back, it was time to get her ready for the day, make breakfast, feed her breakfast, and find something to do.

It was driving him insane, even when people helped.

He kept trying with the spoon, just to prove to Lae’zel he could. Sometimes he tried it with a charcoal pencil, hoping against hope that she would magically be able to communicate.

One day, something hit a window. Astarion stood near it, ears focused on the possibility of a repeat offense. When it didn’t come, he shrugged it off and returned to the table. The pencil fell out of Rowan’s hand and sighing, he went to fix it. At first he brushed the markings off as random, made when her pencil fell. Then he really looked at them. They were a sort of… crude bat?

“Surely not…” Astarion muttered to himself. Rowan dropped the pencil again, letting it roll off her fingers as she slowly turned her palm to the ceiling.

Astarion went out onto the balcony. The sun was low enough that it was practically hidden by the horizon, so he didn’t have to be so careful.

There, in front of the window, was a bat. He poked it with the piece of paper, but as he suspected, it was dead. It probably hit the window and broke its neck. Normally, he would’ve left it, or thrown it off the balcony. This time, he scooped it up with the paper and brought it inside.

Finally, he’d gone insane. It was bound to happen.

Insane or not, he gently placed the bat in Rowan’s upturned hand. To his surprise, she made a soft ‘shh’ sound. A few moments later, the bat twitched back to life. It seemed confused, licked her hand, then looked up at him with its beady little eyes. Very carefully, before it could start flying around causing havoc, Astarion scooped it back up and took it outside. After a bit, it flew away.

“Bat,” Rowan said quietly upon his return.

“Darling?” he asked excitedly, lifting her face to him.

“Bat.” His shoulders sagged.

“Oh, please ,” Astarion begged, resigning himself to the fact that this was his life now. He was definitely going to go insane if this kept up. With a sigh, he straightened up. “Come along. It’s time you went to bed.”

His nightly walk found him in front of the Szarr Palace. It was surprisingly untouched. In the shadows, he waited, playing mindlessly with the family ring that would open the front door.

Astarion wasn’t afraid of Cazador. At least, not in an active sense. The Cazador he knew was gone, truly gone. Rowan enticed the child within the vampire lord, a long-forgotten part of himself that was innocent, into the afterlife. Somewhere, sometime, that part would be reincarnated. But the part that tortured Astarion was consumed and was now, presumably, completely used up.

That didn’t mean Astarion was excited about going back there.

The place was empty, as he expected but wasn’t prepared to see. Everything was taken and sold to give at least something back to the people Cazador turned. It was honestly impressive that they managed such a thing.

Rowan had locked the place up before the final fight, so he doubted there was anyone there. Still, he wandered the halls, telling himself it was to make sure the place was empty.

Astarion came with the intention of gathering a spawn and bringing it back for Rowan to change back. Even the endless number of cells were empty. All he found was the control staff, broken, and some rotting bodies, presumably the people who chose to move on rather than start over.

Astarion brought Rowan every dead thing he could find. Rats. Dogs. He even dragged her out to Rivington to try it with a cow.

Some things came back, others didn’t. Rowan once said that she just felt when it wasn’t someone’s time. Without her ability to tell him, he just had to keep trying. He once brought her along on a hunt so she could bring his victim back. He’d tout it as a heroic ‘lesson’ or maybe he’d just drain them again. But it didn’t work and the whole time he was worried that it would go badly.

“Duck,” Rowan said quietly, sitting on his bed while he was going through his things. When did he get so much stuff? Most of it was absolutely useless. It just kept piling up and now he couldn’t find anything.

“Yes, darling, duck,” he said back with a sigh. He couldn’t remember what he was looking for. His head felt like it was full of cotton. “ Duck me. Duck this. Duck you.”

“Duck.”

“Yes, dear.” Astarion reached into a bag, touched something smooth, and with a look of confusion, pulled it out.

“Duck.”

“It… is.” Carved from a dark wood, it appeared to be a standard depiction of the common duck. On the underside was the message: “for Rowan, Oakfather’s love.” Of course it was one of Halsin’s. Astarion placed it in her hands. “Here you go, my love. Your duck.”

To his surprise, it didn’t fall out of her hands. Instead, she tightened her grip. The sight of her fingers curling around its shape made him break into tears.

“Duck… butt,” she said tonelessly. Astarion chuckled through his sobs.

Normally, Astarion would leave Rowan with one of the tieflings. They were all trying to build lives for themselves in the city, usually this involved actually leaving the tower, but someone was always around. Maybe they knew and decided it amongst themselves even though he never asked. They all seemed happy to help, perhaps feeling indebted to Rowan for convincing Rolan to take them in.

After the ‘duck’ discovery, Astarion invited Rowan to spend his mid-day trance with him. For a while, he was afraid to indulge in their old closeness, wanted to distance himself from it. He didn’t deserve it. It was wrong. It would only hurt more when it was over.

But today, seeing her hold that little gift after so many hours of trying to get her to hold a spoon, he felt just a glimmer of hope. With her snuggled up to his side, her head resting on his chest, he indulged in this familiar ritual.

Like many of his ‘dreams’, Astarion found himself in the city. Sometimes things happened, like he’d sneak into some lord’s mansion and steal a prized necklace. This time, his feet took him to the Szarr Palace.

Of course, he didn’t want to go in. Cazador might be dead in the waking world, but anything was possible here. If this was a nightmare, there was no Rowan to come to his rescue.

Despite all of the reasons to walk on by, Astarion opened the door.

Greeted by darkness, his heart sank into his stomach like a stone.

Then the gentle sound of humming struck his ear.

Behind him was Rowan, dressed in the clothes she was wearing when they first met. Kneeling, she was picking things up and putting them back down while humming a song he would eventually recognize.

“Rowan!” he cried, rushing to her side. She didn’t really react to him, other than ceasing her song. His heart even further. Then she picked something up and placed it in his hands. The pin of her cravat from their last party.

“Bat.”

Astarion looked around at the things she’d surrounded herself with.

One of their matching rings, the self-warming wine bottle with the label she made, a bottle of perfume, his burial shroud.

A wooden duck, an acorn, a stone in the shape of a bear, a bundle of herbs.

A book on magic, a purple stone that glowed, a sachet of spice, a small figure of a tressym.

A candle, a gear, a stuffed bear, a broken horn.

A mirror, a pendant made of opal in the shape of a crescent moon, a carving of a wolf, a potion whose contents swirled on its own.

A bloodstone, a poem about a hero, a basket hilt for a rapier, a pair of dancer’s shoes.

A silver blade, a miniature snoozing dragon, a honing stone, a bright yellow gem.

There were other things scattered about, like a miniature lute or anvil. In front of her was a box. Rowan reached in, pulled out a little figure, admired it with a smile, and put it down. When the box was empty, she would pick up a figure, admire it again, and put it back.

Astarion started sobbing, dropping the pin and hiding his face in his hands. He didn’t know what was worse, finding nothing or finding her like this. All he felt was pain.

“Here,” she said. He didn’t hear her at first. She repeated the word. He opened his eyes to find her looking directly at him, her hand tapping her lap. “Here.”

Astarion got on his side and laid his head on her leg. Rowan started humming again and combed her fingers through his hair. He started sobbing harder.

“Good boy,” Rowan told him in a soothing voice.

“I miss you so much. It’s so hard. I don’t know what to do.” Rowan stopped petting his head and switched to stroking his arm. “Please tell me what to do. Please come back. I don’t understand.”

Rowan continued to lavish him with touch and emitted a soft shushing sound in between snatches of songs he remembered her singing to herself.

So began Astarion’s true downward spiral.

He would spend the entire day wallowing in hopelessness. Someone would try to be encouraging and he’d threaten to eviscerate them. If he wasn’t afraid of turning Rowan into a meal or letting her starve to death, he would lock the door and never leave.

One day, when he came out of his trance, she was gone. Astarion flew into a panic. He was ready to search every inch of the tower, but when he left their room, it was immediately apparent where she went.

The door to the balcony was open. Sunlight spilled out into the center of the otherwise dark floor of the tower.

Fearing the worst, he rushed into the light. As expected, it burned. Astarion tried to fight it, to grit his teeth and bear it, but he ran back inside before he could find her. Once the effects of the sun subsided, he rushed to the stairs and started yelling for someone, anyone, who could go outside.

It didn’t matter who, but Rolan answered. Confused, he asked, “What in the hells is going on down here?”

Astarion indicated the balcony door, still spewing wonderful, spiteful sunlight. “Rowan went outside.”

Thankfully, Rolan didn’t do that dumb wizard thing where they’re so smart they ask a stupid question, like “what do you mean?” or “why?” Instead, he went in search of her.

Astarion was in knots while he waited, praying to every god he could name.

When Rolan guided Rowan back through the door and closed it behind them, Astarion leapt to his feet and took hold of her by the shoulders. Shaking her back and forth, he shouted, “What in the hells is wrong with you?! Do you know what you put me through? You ungrateful-”

“Hey!” Rolan yelled, one hand crackling with magic. The other pulled Rowan away from Astarion. The threat of a shocking grasp was unnecessary, as the blind rage bled out of him at the sight of Rowan protecting her head with her arms. Astarion took a step back, wringing his hands to keep them busy.

“I’m sorry,” he told them both sadly, unable to look up from the floor.

“She was messing with the plants,” Rolan started to explain. Astarion looked up in surprise and saw that her hands were covered in dirt and green stains. “I don’t really understand gardening of all things. That’s what the mage hands are for, I guess.”

“Rowan loved to garden,” Astarion said in almost mystified tone, taking hold of her dirty hands. Dusting them off, he went on, “She was always taking care of everyone’s potted plants…”

“Perhaps now that she has some… independence, maybe we should encourage her to do things she liked to do.” After giving it some consideration, he added, “We’ll take turns.”

Astarion was taken by surprise. “You would do that?”

Rolan looked at him like it was a stupid question. “Of course.”

The matter settled, Astarion softened his eyes and his tone for Rowan. With a gentle smile, he said to her, “Let's get you cleaned up, hm?”

Astarion did all the hard parts. Admittedly, they got a little less hard as Rowan started doing things for herself, but he was still exhausted. Rolan was probably right, taking her out into the sun to do some of her favorite things had some healing effect. At least Astarion could walk her around the balcony to stargaze and read to her before putting her to bed. They even cooked together, but as someone who didn’t eat, Bex and Lia were much better at it than him.

Sometimes he would come back from his nightly escapades to find her already dressed, sitting at the table, a spoon in her hand. Sometimes he’d find her staring at something, but really staring, not just looking off into space.

Nothing changed in her little dreamscape. Just black emptiness. Little reminders of the people in her life. He tried to keep all of his sadness and frustration inside until he came here, where no one could see him cry or hear him scream. The Rowan inside seemed to react to his emotions with kindness, whereas the one outside reacted with fear.

Every day felt mostly the same. A familiar feeling. At least there was no Cazador. Just the specter of guilt whenever he thought about running away from it all. So, a little like Cazador. Freedom meant he could choose, but he still felt trapped. Cazador trapped him with his love for Astarion. Astarion trapped himself with his love for Rowan.

Leon and Victoria came to visit sometimes. Despite Rowan’s self-proclaimed disinterest in children, the girl was fond of her. Apparently she had lots of fun going through Rowan’s things when she was being resurrected all those months ago, when Astarion freed himself and the other spawn of Cazador.

While the two were drawing pictures on the floor, Astarion caught Victoria humming a song Rowan hummed often recently.

“Where did you hear that melody?” he questioned her, maybe a little too harshly, for Leon elbowed him. “Did Rowan teach it to you?”

“Mhm!” Victoria confirmed happily, unaware that she was supposed to expand on that. Leon nudged her with a leading question. “It’s about magic paintings in a vampire’s castle. A very pretty vampire has to kill him, because the other one is mean. Sometimes the castle is upside down!”

An incredibly nonsense explanation that, considering the stories Rowan would tell, made sense. In a rare moment of clarity, Astarion recalled how he would find Rowan standing in front of a painting, humming the very same song. Leon joined him as he went to stare at it, hoping to understand some secret message.

“Just some old wizard, looks like,” Leon remarked, disinterested. “Not particularly good-looking.”

“If I’ve learned anything, coincidences are worth investigating.”

“From what I heard, you weren’t exactly the brains of the operation.” Astarion shot his brother a sharp glare, which Leon laughed off. “Why don’t we take it over to her and see what she does?”

Without waiting for an answer, Leon lifted the painting off its hook. Astarion inhaled sharply, looked behind him quickly, then turned back.

There was Leon and another man, looking back at them.

A magic mirror.

“It’s… me?” When he reached out, the other man reached out. Leon watched him curiously.

“What’s the big deal?”

“It’s my reflection, you git!”

“Right, it’s probably a magic mirror. Did you forget what you look like?”

“Yes!”

“Weird.”

“I was a vampire for two centuries!”

“But, to forget what you look like?” Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I suppose you didn’t forget everything from before you were turned.”

“Not really. I always wanted to get back to my mother, but I was worried about what she’d say.”

“Well, you were a late addition,” Astarion pointed out, waving his hand dismissively.

“No, I think pretty much everyone remembers things from before. Petras had a sweetheart.”

“What?!” Leon shrugged.

“I think Cazador really had it out for you. You were his favorite, afterall.”

“You were his favorite. You got the big room and the soft bed. I got bugs for dinner and a flaying for breakfast.”

“Vampires are just… really weird. I think he really loved you, in a really weird, fucked up sort of way.”

“I can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth right now.”

“Why would a wizard hide a magic mirror behind a painting?” Leon asked, choosing to move on.

“Who knows. That pompous ass Lorroakan probably didn’t even know. Rolan’s still finding things, mostly by accident…”

“Well, congratulations. Now you can wank off to yourself.” Leon chuckled as he propped the painting up against the wall and went back to his daughter. Astarion spent so long inspecting himself in the magic mirror that their visitors were gone when he managed to tear himself away.

“I apologize, sweetheart,” Astarion told Rowan softly when he returned to her side, placing a kiss on her head. “You’re probably hungry.”

While she ate, he continued to look at himself in the mirror. “They say that you stay the way you were when you were turned. Those Gur must have done a number on me.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No Gur.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I wasn’t killed by a bunch of Gur that I managed to piss off?”

“Yes.”

“Was I even a magistrate?”

“No.”

“How do you know that?” Of course, she didn’t articulate an answer. “Do you have Cazador’s… memories, or something?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try an easy one: Was I beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“Am I still?”

“Yes.”

“Are you answering at random?”

“No.”

“Hm. That doesn’t really help, does it…” Looking at himself in the magic mirror, he poked at his ears. He thought she was exaggerating with those ear cuff illusions, but he really did have some large ears… He laid the mirror down carefully. Solemnly, he asked, “Do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to get better?” Again, she gave him a non-answer. His chest hurt. Not really, because he was dead, but his mind imagined the pain. “Am I going to get through this?”

“Yes.”

Astarion placed one of his cold hands on her arm. Rowan stopped holding the edge of her plate and rolled her arm over so her hand was palm up. Gently, he slid his fingers along her exposed skin, tracing the blue veins under milky-white skin, until he interlaced their fingers.

“I don’t even care if you’re just… saying things. It’s nice to hear.” She didn’t respond. He squeezed her hand. “Of all the weirdos I could have fallen for… you might be the weirdest.”

“Yes.”

----

Astarion was surprised by Withers’ invitation to a ‘reunion.’ He debated saying no, but Rowan became more expressive than ever when he spoke of it. So, for about a month, he worked on reversing her sleep schedule. They would have to move at night this time, and maybe a little bit in the late evening or early morning. Astarion didn’t relish the idea of accidentally burning to death on the road, leaving Rowan alone and defenseless.

Rolan gave them as many scrolls and potions as seemed useful, while Bex stuffed as much food as she could into a bag for Rowan. While on the road, Astarion was going back to hunting animals, but he managed to procure two ever-warm bottles of human blood to sip and keep him sharp.

At least their journey would be a bit shorter than last time; the destroyed bridge that forced them to go the long way to Baldur’s Gate was temporarily repaired. Astarion debated going through the Underdark, he at least wouldn’t be threatened by the sun, but with Rowan’s condition, it was just too risky.

Most exciting, more than seeing someone new for once, was that he managed to get her suit made. He made a few tweaks, of course, because he knew better than her about fashion, but it was essentially the same. The pin was still the same, even if the sight of it made him roll his eyes. So cliche and yet… so adorable. A little tribute to him.

They were the last to arrive, but it was fashionable to be a bit late. Or so he told himself. Really, it was because Rowan’s outfit was a bit more complicated than her normal attire, so he struggled to get it perfect.

“Praise the Oakfather, Rowan appears much better than the last time I saw her,” Halsin remarked, the first to greet them with a broad smile. “You have taken good care of her.”

Astarion wanted to bite back with ‘no thanks to you’, but instead he smiled and bowed his head in humility. “Thank you. It hasn’t been easy, especially dragging her all the way out here.”

“Yes, I imagine so. Unfortunate that Withers chose not to set up in Reithwin, but I admit, it is more meaningful for you all that it is here.” Halsin pulled something out of his bag and placed it in Rowan’s hands. “An owl, just for you. I thought I would branch out.”

“Still fowl.”

Halsin chuckled and wagged a finger at Astarion. “Owls are not fowl. Perhaps I can have Gale explain it better-”

“It was a joke, Halsin.” Astarion didn’t follow as Rowan wandered over to Jaheira and Minsc, who started doting on her in the strangest way. Halsin cleared his throat.

“And how are you doing, Astarion?” Astarion shook his head slightly, breaking free of his distraction.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t ask because I assumed the answer was ‘busy’ and ‘fucking everything that moves.’ Your usual activities.” Halsin laughed, that bassy sound that resonated in Astarion’s stomach and sent a thrill through him.

“No, I was not chastising you for being rude. I was asking how youhave been holding up. Even the strongest of people struggle when they must care for someone with many needs.”

“Fine.” Astarion sighed and rolled his eyes in defeat. “Not that fine, but… Things have been better. Not always, but usually. I just remind myself that I love her… and she loved me.”

“That is a special kind of love that many only dream of experiencing.” Halsin placed a hand on his shoulder and Astarion started to shrug it off, but didn’t. “You look in need of a hug.”

“What I need is a fuck,” Astarion retorted bitterly, but then he chuckled. “When this all started, I felt like a starving dog, salivating at the sight of meat. But I didn’t eat, because I couldn’t do that to her. After a while I just… forgot what that hunger was.”

Halsin squeezed his shoulder, and to his surprise, Astarion threw himself into his arms. Thankfully, no one was watching, as they were all gathered around Rowan. Astarion couldn’t say how long he spent in that embrace, but it wasn’t long enough.

Out of nowhere, there was a sound much like a firework exploding. Then a bright crackling light streaked into the sky, circled back towards them, and zipped around them before hurtling back into the sky. It bobbed up there, little bits of colorful light breaking off like confetti. It did loops and spirals until finally it shot straight towards the spot where Astarion’s tent once stood and in a burst of brilliant light, it turned into a… door.

“What in the Hells was that?” Karlach asked, approaching the door cautiously. The others followed behind, peering around her broad shoulders.

“Withers’ idea of entertainment?” Shadowheart remarked.

“Rowan!” Astarion cried out, running towards the door. Throwing it open, he leapt through.

It was more fantastical than he remembered. They were under the boughs of a great tree, small sparkling lights in many colors circling around it. The gardens were sprawling and majestic, but the home still looked much the same. It always made him think of warmth and safety, somewhere calm and welcoming.

From above came a ball of glittering light, lazily spinning down like a leaf dropping in a subtle fall breeze. As it came closer, it became humanoid in shape. When it flipped right-side up and hovered just above the soft grass, its skin appeared white with streaks of blue flame. Much how a vampire burning in the sun might look.

“What sorcery is this?” Minsc cried out behind Astarion, who was too stunned to move. The figure rushed towards him, its arms spread wide.

“My Star, how I’ve missed you!” it cried in Rowan’s voice. It was Rowan. Astarion took a huge step back as it tried to embrace him. The figure, perhaps one of Rowan’s more genderless choices for her form, was actually made of electricity with a thin image over top to give it features and a sense of boundary.

It backed away from him quickly, shrinking slightly. Its feet finally touched the ground. The look on its face and in its eyes was indecipherable, but it gave off an impression of shame and hurt.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?!” Astarion shouted once he had an inkling of understanding.

“Astarion…” Karlach pleaded sadly. Sad on his behalf? Or Rowan’s? He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

“No. I’m sorry. I don’t,” the figure answered, shrinking even further, its head lowering.

“I should have spent the last six months in some never-ending epic poem to hedonistic debauchery, drinking more wine than the Chionthar has water, in a pile of sweaty limbs, but instead, I’ve been taking care of you! ” The physical form was absent, despite Halsin’s effort to bring it along. “I’ve had to do everything for you! Do you know how hard that is?!”

The figure said nothing. Knowing Rowan, it was ready to burst into tears, into flame, but it would keep quiet because it knew that it deserved his venom.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about throwing you off that tower? Of walking into the sun so I could be free of the millstone you put around my neck? How guilty I felt even thinking those things? For wanting to abandon you? How trapped I feel? How much I prayed for something, anything, to change? To wake up and find that this was all some nightmare and I was still in Cazador’skennels?

“I’ve never known so much joy and hatred as I’ve felt looking at you now.”

With that, Astarion stomped past the figure and into the house, where he found any bottle of wine, uncorked it, and immediately tipped it down his throat. When it was gone, he finally looked around to see if anything was different. There was a painting, which wasn’t different, but now he could see that it was him. Growling, he snatched it off the wall and smashed its frame on the floor. Then he started on a second bottle of wine.

After some time, Gale entered the room.

“Why not leave?” he asked curiously, taking in his surroundings.

“Wine actually tastes like wine here. Why drink vinegar when I can have the best vintages of a land I will never see?”

“Ah, that is a good reason. May I try?” Gale held out his hand and, to his surprise, Astarion handed him the bottle. Sparing no thought for propriety, he took a swallow straight from the source. “Not exactly to my tastes, but I know a few distinguished wizards who would enjoy that.”

“Good. Take her with you.”

“You don’t mean that, Astarion.”

“You are the last person I want to talk to right now.” After a sip, he added, “Second-to-last, anyway.”

“Perhaps, but as is hard to forget, my last love was a goddess, so I might be the one best equipped for this task.” Gale took a deep breath and became very serious, with just an edge of gentleness. “I am not telling you to forgive or forget. You prevailed through a monumentaltask. Not everyone could have done what you did.”

Astarion made a dismissive noise, but somehow it sounded a little… proud? At this, Gale smiled a little.

“And your feelings- well. We all have our dark thoughts, don’t we? At times I wanted to wander into the Underdark or have some merchant ship drop me in the middle of the ocean so I could be done with this accursed orb.

“That is all to say… You love each other very much. A love many would be jealous to have. I certainly am. And seeing all this, that has been created for the two of you? Even more so. You know each other deeply. Thatis what makes this so hard.”

Astarion sneered at his words, even if they comforted him a little. “You have no idea how I feel.”

“Perhaps not. I cherish our friendship enough that I would readily open my home and heart to you, so you might work through this, give you space in a marvelous city to take comfort in solitude or company, if you so desired. But I think, with all of us gathered here once more… It would be good to hear what Rowan has to say. But no one will make you.”

Astarion sat at the kitchen table for a long time, silently staring out into one of the gardens, draining bottle after bottle of wine that was made just for him. Time was different here, he was well aware, but regardless of that, he had no qualms making them wait.

Eventually, he staggered out, one last bottle in his hand. They were all gathered near the base of the tree. The druids were marveling at the garden, Karlach was trying to cheer Rowan up, and the others discussed the nature of such a place. They all turned to face Astarion.

“Well. Let’s get this over with. Explain yourself,” he slurred angrily, eyes narrowed at her.

Rowan’s form lifted its head and stood in the middle of them all, facing Astarion once it regarded them each in turn.

“There are no words to express how much I regret what has passed.”

Astarion wagged his finger before slicing the air with his flattened hand. “No apologies. I don’t want to hear them. I want to know why.”

“I will start by saying… I have no idea what happened after the Brain was dominated.” Some of them exchanged questioning glances. “I… remember a searing hot pain, all throughout my body. I saw some of you, some of our friends, hurt by events I couldn’t see. I reached out to them. Then I was here. Like this.”

“You don’t remember talking to me after the sun started to burn? Protecting me from it so I could get to the tower?” Astarion asked with clear mistrust and disbelief.

“I’m s- no. I don’t. It was probably what part of me was left in the fateweave I gave you.” The form bowed its head. “What stands before you is what Jergal saved from oblivion. What you’ve been caring for is the vessel he made to keep me. I didn’t know at the time, but I over-extended myself trying to protect everyone. Without realizing, I used Jergal’s magic to fortify the spells I gave you and others. Without a complete soul, I became detached from the vessel and ended up here.

“Without your care, my vessel would likely be dead, and I would be trapped here forever.”

“How are we here now?” Gale asked academically, hand on chin.

“The place where we all gathered. The hearth around which we became friends and more. It is a place meaningful to me, my… rebirth-place. The veil between this plane and the physical is thin here. When the vessel came back, I could sense it and I knew at least one of you would be with it. I used much of my strength to push through and hopefully get your attention.”

Astarion looked up into the boughs of the tree, at the lights winking out to be replaced by new ones. Their swirling, mixed with the wine, made him dizzy in a giddy sort of way. “This is much different than the last time I was here.”

Rowan looked up as well, a wistful expression hidden on its face. “It is.”

“How do we glue you back together?” Karlach asked, cutting off Rowan’s wistfulness, distress clear in her voice.

“What has been done once, cannot be done again. To tether the two together once and for all? Only a price I will not ask or accept,” Rowan started, regarding her friend fondly. “A soul.”

“You were building a soul from those you helped. Where did it go?” Wyll asked, placing a calming hand on Karlach’s arm.

“I spread it amongst you all, woven into the strands of the weak fates I sheared off of your souls. It protected you from blades and spells, from missing critical strikes. It turned into raging warriors whose history flowed through my blood. It protected you from dragon fire, a doomed engine. The sun.”

“We will find you a new one.” Lae’zel insisted fiercely, puffing out her chest, a fire in her eyes. “We have done the impossible before.”

“Your kindness swells my heart, but your journey is done. You must live your lives.”

“Don’t say shit like that! You’d do the same for me!” Karlach cried, jabbing an accusing finger at Rowan’s form. “For any of us!”

Rowan shook her head. “I am not giving you a choice. I was never supposed to be here. This is how it is supposed to be.”

“Your vessel worked its magic on dying animals and got better,” Astarion informed her, his voice a mix of annoyance and hope.

“Your care made it better. Animals are small, weak. I didn't derive power from them. Their fates are easily swayed.”

Rowan regarded them each in turn, her head held high, like a hero saying farewell before sacrificing themselves for the greater good. Solemnly, she said, “I’m sorry that I made you care for me. It made me very happy to be your friend.”

“There must be another way,” Shadowheart pleaded, a determination in her eyes that rivaled Lae’zel’s.

“You would give up so easily?” Halsin asked sadly, voice dripping with heartbreak.

“The girl has made up her mind,” Jaheira retorted with pride, chin raised and admiration in her wizened eyes.

“A warrior is brave in the face of death.” Minsc puffed out his chest and grinned like a lunatic.

“Please, Rowan, reconsider.” Wyll and Karlach gave her the biggest, wettest eyes. The cracks of Rowan’s form went from blue to red as she emitted a low growl of frustration.

“I have considered! All this time I have considered! That this could have been avoided if I had been more careful. If I found just one more person who could use my help. If I hadn't wasted power on frivolousfancies. If I had found one more zombie, one more spawn.”

Astarion felt hollow. Rowan seemed to perceive this, her cracks bleeding black to blue and her demeanor softening.

“Not you. No , I would never ask you to do that for me, and I wouldn't have accepted it, because it should be your choice, not some sacrifice. No. There were so many souls in those cells that I didn't take, because I wanted them to suffer. I wanted them to remember why I gave them no choice but to rot and die. The ones that hurt you. I didn't want them to become a part of me. I didn't take part of Cazador either, just the power he yielded.

“I thought I had time. In the aftermath, maybe I could find the solution. I wanted to see what life would be like without the threat, when life would have no choice but to change. But there is no more solution. There are no more “if only”s. This is how it is.”

Gale narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing everything he could find in Rowan’s speech and demeanor. “There is something you're not telling us. There is a solution.”

“If I won't tell you, then there is no solution.”

“There are other ways to bond a soul. Some much less nefarious than others.”

“Marriage!” Shadowheart cried, suddenly remembering something. “You asked if I was able to join you in marriage.”

“It was a possibility. Before. To fill in the gap. But now it is all gap.”

“Now you would be relying on them. If they died, you would die. If they wanted to sever the bond, you would die.” Gale turned to Astarion. “If you thought you're trapped now…”

Astarion shot him a sharp glance. “Quiet, you.”

“I've ruined the celebration,” Rowan remarked, obviously trying to change the subject. “I’m sorry. You should be drinking and dancing.”

“It's not a party without you, Ro.”

“I'm afraid you must go without my charming presence tonight.”

“You don't drop a fireball like that on us and wave us off. Didn’t take you for a devil.”

“If you want to stay and visit, feel free. My door remains open to you.”

Everyone stayed for a while, knowing that time outside passed much more slowly. They asked many questions, mostly marveling at what had been happening right underneath their noses. Gale tried to figure out some way for them to all communicate. He insisted that he would come to their old campsite again during Blackstaff’s break in order to visit.

After seeing everyone off, Rowan found Astarion in the bath, another bottle of wine in his hand.

“I’m not leaving,” he growled, emphatically sipping his wine before sinking deeper into the bubbles.

“You have to leave.”

“Make me.” Rowan stared at him. “Go on. Convince me to leave.”

“The interesting thing about returning to this” Rowan indicated her electrical state “is that I remember. In a calm way, of course. No hysterics like the last time we were all here. I remember their faces, the sound of their voices. I remember how I died: slowly. The kind of death where people are relieved you’re gone, because there’s nothing left of you. You’re just a shell, held together by nothing but their memory of you.”

Astarion rose up a bit and put down his wine. “Rowan, I-”

Rowan held up a hand. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m not ripping my own heart out to turn the tables, to make you apologize to me . I put you in this position. I am sorry. I’m telling you this because I watched people suffer like you’ve suffered these past six months and you need to let me go.”

“No!” Astarion leapt up from the water. “They had to let you go because they couldn't do anything for you. I can do something.”

“Bind your soul to mine and pray we find another 7000 spawn somewhere?”

“I'm a vampire, I'll live forever so long as I stay out of the sun, running bodies of water, and don't get a stake rammed through my heart. I've had a thousand souls tied to mine. What greater romance could there be than becoming my love’s undying phylactery.”

Rowan shook her head. “I can't let you do this.”

“Yes you can. You've become so afraid of trampling on my freedom that you're taking my choices away.” Rowan opened her mouth in shock, then lowered her head in acceptance. Astarion’s firmness and confidence changed to surprise. Placing his hands on his soapy hips, cocked just a little, he went on, “I've made a very good point. Are you sure I wasn't a magister?”

“What?”

Astarion waved his hand about. “The other one. She said I wasn't a magister and that I wasn't killed by Gur. I assumed you knew that.”

“Probably magic from the other side banging around in there. That vessel is more Toril than Earth.”

“I’m sorry, you call your planet dirt?”

“We call our sun “sun” and our moon is “moon”, too.” Astarion scoffed and shook his head.

“I never want to hear you criticize me ever again, that's ridiculous.”

“Hey, I didn't name them! Some old fucks were in charge of that.”

Astarion laughed, head thrown back, body swaying. “How I missedthis.”

“I've missed you too.”

“I said some nasty things-”

“I deserved it.” Astarion held up a finger.

“You did . But I shouldn't have saidthem.”

“It's okay. I don't expect your forgiveness.”

“I'm not forgiving you. Yet .” He took the ring off his finger and held it out to her. “ But… I would like to spend that time learning to forgive you… withyou.”

To his surprise, her form was able to hold the ring. She turned it over in her fingers.

“I don't want you to do this just to save me.”

“Darling, I'm as selfish as they come. I'm doing this because I want you back. All of it. And I don't care if you can't change shape or protect me from the sun or give me barrels of your blood. I want myRowan back. What is pledging to live the rest of your life together if not giving up some freedom for the guarantee that someone will pick you up when you fall and laugh with you when you make a mess of things?”

“If it's what you want.”

“No, my dear. Be honest with me, serve yourself for just a moment: is this what you want?”

Rowan held out a hand. Astarion offered his. She slipped the ring back on. He admired it a moment as if it was the first time seeing it on his finger.

“Now that that’s settled. Let's have Shadowheart bind our souls together forevermore in the holy bonds of Selunite matrimony, or whatever , and then we can have the loudest, nastiest party that this group of do-gooders are capable of.”

Everyone stared at him expectantly when he reached the other side. There was no time for questions as a streak of lightning zipped out of the door after him. It spiraled up, came down, slammed into the ground, and rolled around a bit as if drunk or confused. It lifted up, shook side to side a few times, and then bobbed over to Rowan’s vessel. It made some loops around it, inspecting, and then tried ramming into it. It bounced off again and again, trying different spots. When the vessel opened its mouth, perhaps to say something inane like ‘owl’, the ball of electricity rushed in.

After some sputtering and coughing, the light in Rowan’s eyes returned to full brilliance. Karlach rushed to hug her, but Rowan held up a warding hand.

“Hold on, think I’m gonna be sick,” she mumbled as she crouched down, putting her head between her knees. “I’m so fucking dizzy.”

“Take your time, Ro.”

“Ugh, I feel like garbage. Did I lose weight?” Rowan rubbed her temples with the heels of her palms. “Why’d you feed me so many carrots?”

Astarion laughed nervously and looked away. “I’m better with a knife than a cauldron.”

Rowan briefly considered giving him a dressing-down, but her expression suddenly changed to abject horror. Tears welled in her eyes and she threw herself at Astarion, crushing him in an embrace.

“I’m so sorryyyy,” she sobbed hysterically, readjusting her hold on him to find the best place to latch on forever. Astarion gave her a few pats on the back.

“Well, at least I won’t resent you forever for not knowing how great I was.” Rowan started crying harder, so Astarion tried to laugh it off as if he’d been joking. “Come on, darling, let’s make this official before you turn back into a turnip.”

“If I’d known this would be a wedding, I would have come better-dressed,” Jaheira said cheekily. “Sorry I didn’t bring a gift.”

“At least the lovely couple looks the part,” Gale pointed out, fixing a wrinkle Rowan made in Astarion’s coat.

“You know, I never answered you. I can’t actuallyperform a wedding,” Shadowheart told Rowan apologetically as she similarly fixed Rowan’s clothes.

Smiling broadly, Halsin raised a hand. “I have. In the name of Silvanus, of course. But I would be honored to do this for you, if you so wished.”

“Not like we have much choice…” Astarion muttered under his breath. Rowan gave Halsin an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“It would have been nice to prepare some words, but we can’t all get what we wish for,” he said sheepishly, finding a good place to stand that seemed ‘official.’

“Don’t overthink it, they’re only the words that will bind us together until one or both of us die.” Astarion laughed as the reality of how true those words were sank in. “Preferably in a really hilarious or romanticway.”

“So be it. In the embrace of Silvanus, do you promise to cherish one another, to be each other’s strength, and each other’s home?”

“I do,” Rowan answered happily.

“I already did all that,” Astarion argued. Lae'zel elbowed him in the ribs. “Oomph . Yes , I promise.”

“Then may you walk as two souls- No. May you walk as one soul in two bodies? Under the su- moonand the Oakfather’s boughs.” Chuckling, Halsin made a gesture, pushing his palms together. “Now you may kiss, to seal this oath and begin your next journey together.”

To great applause, they did. They stared fondly into each other’s eyes like the lovesick protagonists they were. Then Rowan hiccuped and stuck out her tongue in disgust. “Your soul is, like, really bitter.”

“What a lovely thing to say to your new husband,” Astarion complained, but then laughed. “I suppose that does sound just like me.”

“Here you go, Ro, wash it down with this,” Karlach said cheerily, holding out a mug of beer to her. Rowan took an eager sip only to sputter. Most of them laughed.

“That’s even more bitter!”

“Serves you right,” Astarion told her, handing her another mug. “I seem to recall you preferring this.”

Rowan eyed it suspiciously, but it smelled familiar. She took a cautious sip. “Is there something wrong with this? It doesn’t taste right…”

“Tastes fine to me,” Wyll answered, taking a testing sip from the mug.

“I think we turned you into a vampire,” Shadowheart said. Rowan slowly opened her mouth and prodded the points of her teeth. Shadowheart chuckled. “Maybe part-vampire.”

“Still blue,” Astarion pointed out, peering into her eyes. Shadowheart held up a hand mirror, which failed to show either of their reflections. Astarion clicked his tongue. “Oh dear. Well, that’s disappointing. At least we found that magic mirror at Rolan’s.”

“Are you feeling… hungry ?” Jaheira asked in a conspiratorial tone, a little smirk on her lips. Next to her, Minsc’s eyes lit up and he cried out, “Fish! They are all neck. Perfectfor vampires.”

“Honestly… no. I’m not hungry at all,” Rowan answered, face serious.

“Hopefully it stays that way. Aside from never seeing the sun and being Cazador’spuppet, the hunger is probably the worst part.”

“But I liked food…” Gale put a hand on her shoulder and offered her a smile.

“You know, it’s not a wedding without dancing.” Astarion bristled.

“If you think you go first, you’re sadly mistaken, Gale.”

“Of course not, but I am vying for the second dance. I’ve been practicing.”

Rowan enjoyed dancing, although she wasn’t good at it, and everyone got to tell her what they’d been up to. While listening to Minsc go on about… something or other, Astarion sidled up to her and grabbed her by the arm.

“You’ll have to excuse us, Minsc. Rowan looks a bit overwhelmed.”

“Yes! Minsc does have that effect on people… Especially weird not-quite-a-monster-but-not-normal-either people.”

In the woods, where after the party with the tieflings he fed and she slept, Astarion fixed her with a hungry look in his eyes. “I’m still furious with you… but how I’ve missed you.”

“If it helps, I don’t think I’ve spent a moment not thinking about you since the last time I laid eyes on your beautiful face.” She smirked devilishly at him. “I’ve especially thought a lot about taking care of you, if you catch my meaning.”

Astarion made a soft ‘tch’ noise and tilted his head. “You might have upgraded yourself to ‘angry’, but we’ll see how much all that fantasizing has paid off.”

When they got back, both a little disheveled, they were greeted by mocking, but cheerful, applause.

After patting his arm and giving Astarion a reassuring kiss on the cheek, Rowan went in search of Withers.

“Ah. Thou hast returned.”

“Thanks for inviting them, I guess. You could have saved us a lot of trouble if you just re-glued me, though. What, should I have left you a check?”

“Thy fate was to die, but it has never been known to be… hrm … reliable .” He tilted his head in the barest form of admiration. “You have always been persistent.”

“Thanks, Dad, I know you really mean that.”

“Hrm… Dad…”

Rowan thumped him on the arm and gave him a wink. “Be sure to write every hundred years.”

“So, what are your honeymoon plans?” Wyll asked when she returned. They were all joined around the fire like tender times of old.

“I am taking a long holiday. I will not lift a single spoon or rag for the next six months,” Astarion said after taking a sip of wine. “I will only be removing clothes.”

“I was thinking we’d visit Reithwin on the way back to Baldur’s Gate,” Rowan answered, ignoring Astarion’s not-so-subtle barbs. “I’d like to see everyone so they can know I’m fine. Then maybe we’d do some traveling, visit Waterdeep?”

“Magical! A room will be ready for you on your arrival. You might even fall in love with the place,” Gale said cheerfully, almost desperately.

“Doubtful. Hard to compete with the pile of rubble that’s Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion retorted. Wyll and Karlach sagged a little. He actually felt bad about it. “Sorry. It’s not that awful.”

“You’ve been eating non-Guild thieves and stealing jewelry from dead nobility for the past six months,” Rowan muttered.

“Now, hold on, I’ll have you know, I did many people a service by eating those thieves. There’s just no one to pay me for my good deeds, so… I stole some things. Do you know how expensive all those carrots were?” Rowan gave him a withering glare, then smiled. They both laughed.

“Good to see you two are starting on sure footing,” Shadowheart said with a humored smile.

“I’m going to miss you all so much,” Karlach said, sniffling. Rowan rested her head on her bicep and Karlach crushed her in a sudden hug.

“Oh, I know what I want to do,” Astarion interrupted suddenly, rather excitedly, as if the thought just occurred to him. “I want… to fuck on the ceiling of a temple.”

“Why?” Shadowheart asked, both disgusted, confused, and a little curious.

“It would be humorous,” Lae’zel answered for him, beaming with pride when he pointed at her and winked, a sign that she was right. “I am starting to understand the humor of Fae-run.”

“I think I don’t need to breathe anymore,” Rowan remarked, making Karlach realize that, if she was normal, Rowan would’ve passed out by now with how tightly she was gripping. Hopefully, she asked, “Can I become a necromancer now?”

“NO!” most everyone yelled. Astarion and Rowan emitted a small ‘aww.’ Everyone laughed, except Minsc, who was very serious.

“Necromancy is no joke. Boo harbors only hatred for necromancers. They smell funny and do not keep tasty snacks around their lairs for him to nibble.”

“We are joking, Minsc. Lighten up a little.”

“How is something as evil as necromancers a joke, Jaheira?”

“They smell funny,” Lae’zel answered. Much to everyone’s surprise, they laughed.

“Regretting it yet?” Rowan asked Astarion as everyone tucked into bed.

“I always resented you a little bit, for protecting me. I didn’t want protection, I didn’t want to admit that I needed it. I wanted to be strong, all on my own, because all I had ever been was weak and I never thought I could trust someone. But then you needed my protection… Despite how painful and frustrating it was… I realized that protecting you felt good. I could express my love without honeyed words, or expensive gifts, or phenomenal sex.” He eyed her, a little smile replacing his thoughtful gaze. “Now, we can protect each other.”

“But you still want the compliments and the gifts and the sex, right?”

“Oh, of course, darling, I haven’t completely changed.” She kissed him and smirked as she pulled away.

“Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“Now let’s just pray we don’t burst into flames or fall into any spike pits.”

“There’s the sarcasm. I was starting to get worried.”

“How long do you think it’ll take? To find 7000 fragments of souls?”

“A very long time, I’d guess.”

“Good thing I stayed a vampire, then.” A moment passed in silence. “Did you know that would happen?”

“Kind of stretching the definition of ‘know.’ I’m not exactly Withers, and even he’s wrong sometimes.” Rowan reached out and plucked something from his shoulder. For once, Astarion saw it: a piece of fate, a wriggling blue-white worm in between her fingers. “This one is you slipping off into the dark when I’m not looking.”

“And you just stoleit from me?”

“It wouldn’t come off so easily if you were seriously considering it. These are more like fleeting fancies.” Rowan stuck the fate in her mouth and slurped it up like a noodle. She smiled in satisfaction. “Mmm, the tragic ones always taste the best. Salty.”

“I forgot how much of a freak you are.”

“You like it.”

Astarion sighed in resignation. “I do. I’m a fool.”

“Too bad Shadowheart and Lae’zel seem pretty retired. If Gale taught me to be a wizard, that would be a pretty balanced party.”

“Already planning another heroic adventure?”

“I’ll be honest, I’m kinda sad I sat at home while you all did the hard part.”

“There’s plenty of people singing your praises in Baldur’s Gate.”

“I don’t want praise. Well, Maybe a little. Would it hurt to have my portrait put up somewhere?”

Astarion laughed. “I think my soul is having more of an effect than I thought.”

“What I really miss… is that you all seem so much closer for having fought beside each other. And crazy stories.” Rowan sighed wistfully. “And imagine how tragic and beautiful it would’ve been if I was on the edge of death in your arms, or some villain used a domination spell to make you rip my throat out with your fangs.”

“That would be a delicious fate.”

“Mmm, like salmon roe. Salty and wet and it pops between your teeth.”

“It’s absolutely tragic that we’ve robbed you of taste. Thankfully, I have enough taste for the both of us.”

“You’re a dork.”

“You have to be nice to me. I’ve been through a lot and I’m very fragile.”

“I meant it as a compliment. Like when you call me a freak.”

“You area freak.”

“And youare a dork.”

“Maybe we should get Lae’zel to teach you to be a warrior. It would be entertaining to see someone bash you over the head.”

“Maybe she should, so I can kick your ass and finally shut your smart mouth.”

“Oh, so we are flirting!” Rowan gasped, hand to chest, offended.

“Flirting? My good sir, who do you take me for! I’m a newly-married lady.”

“He’s invited too. The more the merrier. He must be a very handsome and charming man to win your hand.”

“That he may be, but he is also dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Sounds exciting. I like a challenge.”

Astarion captured her lips in a kiss. They pushed back against one another until he pushed her to the ground, trapping her under him. Her breath got hot, her body squirmed. Just when he was sure she’d beg for something more, Astarion stopped.

“Okay, I’m bored, time for bed.” Rowan whined as he hopped off of her and rolled over onto his bedroll. “Consider thisyour punishment.”

Rowan sighed in defeat. “Yes, Master.”

“Hmm. I like that.” Astarion rolled back over so he could kiss her once more. Much more seriously, he said, “If it’s not obvious; I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #tav bg3 #a non hero's guide #original character #titus writes #titus post #text post #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #Rowan Vignaud

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pennyblossom-meta · 26 days ago

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Sneak peak: The Ides of April, chp 5

Just a short-ish draft for pt1 of the the next chapter while I'm busy with work. The words aren't flowing so well lately, so it might take a while to wrap everything up.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

Anna stepped into the shop, her movements slow and deliberate. She halted on top of a sunken mat neatly tucked at the entrance, feet sinking a tad into the coarse material while the door creaked shut behind her with a low groan. Hesitation hung in the air as she cast a wary glance around the dimly lit parlour. Shadows flickered on the shelves, drawing an eerie, blue-ish glow.

A faintly musty, sweet-sour smell with a dash of something else clung to the air in the Olde Tokyo Sutra, the kind found in terribly old buildings, where time had seeped into the very foundations. Anna shifted on her feet and then looked down; the wooden floorings were deeply pigmented, worn by centuries of heavy furniture and strolling feet. She tilted her head, wondering whether the beams would break under her weight — and if so, would she fall into a decrepit basement, smelling of stale dust, perhaps brimming with cobwebs?

The floorboards whined as the wizard wobbled forward, slowly. Clutching her wand, she noted how the windows were sealed shut from the inside. What shy light blessed her eyes came from an antique oil lamp further down the room, barely outlining the sturdy bookcases that lined against the walls, towering upwards as if they elongated into infinity, the upper reaches shrouded in darkness. Someone thought to stack tomes upon tomes in precarious piles on the floor in such a way that defied gravity with a strange, miraculous balance. At the back, a sinuous staircase wound its way to a wide platform above the counter, bursting at the proverbial seams with more books, scrolls and artefacts while a stuffed vulture hung from the rails with its wide wings open as if lunging for prey, in a competent work of taxidermy.

Anna pursed her lips. She’d wager Flourish and Blotts felt less menacing after closing hours than this place. There was something oppressive in the air, making her feel as though the very walls were watching her.

“Merlin’s beard,” she muttered, trying to mitigate the tension. “Should the yõkai be jumping on people like that? Does this happen often?”

A hiss like that of old hinges echoed in the silence. “Do not be so quick to judge, mademoiselle. Yõkai is as yõkai does, as do we all,” said the wizard, shuffling forward sans cane in awkward steps as his body twisted painfully to the left. Embroidered moons and sequins in silver thread glittered with each sway, like a luminous wave, revealing skinny feet trapped inside a pair of yellow slippers.

“Still not right, not in a domestic environment,” she replied, frowning at the animal skulls neatly decorating one of the higher shelves. The click of her shoes echoed, a lone utterance in the otherwise loud silence. “This neighbourhood is riddled with Muggles. What if one accidentally witnessed something? We’d have the Ministry swooping down like a ton of bricks.”

The wizard let out a raspy cough. “Les non magiques, oui. Alors, there are rules on top of rules to regulate how magical creatures engage with humans — and even stricter rules on what they mustn’t do.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working; it’s not the first time I’ve encountered a yõkai in Tokyo.”

“And it will not be the last,” nodded the wizard.

Anna’s frown deepened. “It won’t?”

“Non, it will not. Most unfortunate mademoiselle, I am aware. The binds of the Statute of Secrecy tether the yõkai to our kind. They are drawn to us, to the magique,” the wizard lowered his voice, as if adding an afterthought. “Perhaps it is the souls.”

Anna hesitated. “Do they follow us? I’ve…felt something around me, in the street. Several times. Maybe several somethings — but when I turn around, there’s no one there.”

“Were you, perchance, accompanied by Muggles?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“In broad daylight?”

“Not just, but yeah.”

“Did you cross the ancient places, mademoiselle — walk through the cobbled izakayas streets, towards the edge of the city where modern architecture is less daunting?”

Anna's brows furrowed further. “Sometimes.”

The wizard threw her a watery glance over his shoulder. “Yõkai do not like modernity. They adapt, but live in the past — never content. A sad, terrible fate. Their existence is haunted by the old days. They followed vous, mademoiselle, one of the few witches in Tokyo because we are like a flame to a moth, as you English say.”

Anna hummed in acknowledgement, shoulders slightly slumped. “I think it’s the other way around, actually.”

All of a sudden, she heard a low hum coming from above. Then, tiny, hurried footsteps. Narrowing her eyes, she looked up. The second floor…?

“Allez, mademoiselle,” called the wizard from afar.

Anna almost jumped, drawing her eyes away from the dark ceiling. A lurch of pity twisted in her stomach at the sight of the old wizard’s gait. Before she could offer to help, however, a pair of watery eyes locked onto hers, sharp with an unexpected awareness. Perhaps sensing her intent, he raised a trembling hand — pale, wrinkled, and marked with age spots — and gave his wand a shaky flick. At once, a dozen candles hidden in the dark lit up above them, floating like fairy lights at Yule.

Grimacing, Anna covered her eyes from the unexpected brightness.

The floorboards groaned under her weight as she followed the elderly wizard, maintaining a respectful distance as he limped slowly around the counter. With a muffled wheeze, he lowered himself into a cushioned chair. Anna’s gaze wandered over the room’s peculiar decor — skulls belonging to mysterious creatures, dried flowers hanging from the rafters, peculiar trinkets casting eerie shadows in the dim light and… a televisor?

She frowned, tilting her head at the black box sitting on the large wooden desk. A red oni mask dangled from the antenna.

“How remarkable,” her fingers lightly grazed the cold porcelain nose on the mask, though her eyes were set on the televisor. It looked older than her own. “Thought I was the only one interested in Muggle appliances, perhaps in a long radius still.”

Her eyes narrowed as she spotted begonias paired with oleander in a vase, and cattails alongside laurel, framed behind glass on the walls. Together, they formed an odd, yet deliberate tapestry of symbols: a warning for caution, yet promises of peace and success. Superstition intertwined with eastern philosophy, the foundation of a long-standing and quietly potent venture.

The wizard nodded, pulling out a pipe and some dry weed from one of the bottom drawers with a trembling hand. “A useful trinket to stay aware of les Muggles in these troubled times, mademoiselle. Alors, what brings vous to our humble bookshop? A thirst for Japan’s finest recipes? A nouveau livre on spells? Recherche?”

The wizard looked at her pointedly over his glasses.

There’s that ‘something else’, she thought, fighting a grimace as the wizard whispered a few words to burn the weed inside the bowl. The resulting waft wasn’t quite like tobacco, but the smell was rank, acrid enough to make her feel a tad lightheaded.

“Yes, indeed,” Anna coughed daintily into her sleeve, her heart thumping a little too fast in the loud silence. “There’s this class at To-Ho, — Japanese Literature — we're doing an intro on Premodern fiction and suggested books on kami for this semester's essay.”

“One would assume les non magique bookshops to be out of reading material on kami.”

She hesitated, sensing a trap. The wizard’s eyes remained a sharp, watery blue, though his hands seemed steadier, trembling less. “Precisely. They've been nothing short of pandemonium ever since that Second Kira emerged.”

“Oui, c’est vrai,” with a nod, the wizard sucked in a breath and then puffed out a ring of smoke that went over Anna’s head. “Shinigami are controversial in both communities.”

Anna bit her lip. The wizard smiled serenely, unperturbed.

"Mademoiselle, I am far too old and tired for these games," he muttered, voice weary. Unsteady, the wizard pushed himself up from the chair with frail hands, biting down the pipe lip as he gripped the armrest for support with surprising strength. He then beckoned Anna to follow up the narrow staircase. “Poor liars give themselves away in the blink of an eye. Let us speak plainly, s’il vous plaît.”

Anna blushed, startled, as if slapped. With careful steps, she shuffled behind, head held high despite herself. A few candles drifted toward them with a quiet whoosh, their soft glow casting more light over the platform.

The wizard halted in front of the centre bookcase, a sturdy structure with shelves secured by an iron grid. Enchanted, clearly, Anna thought warily as she approached. She could feel the faint hum of magic emanating from the intricately looped metal, a soft, persistent pulse that reverberated in the air.

With a flick of his wand, the wizard opened the gate and summoned two books, keeping them in the air, hovering, waiting for her to check as he smoked his pipe. Anna leaned forward, slightly crestfallen when she noticed the covers were written in Japanese.

“An overview on kami,” the wizard explained, gesturing first to the book on the left with his pipe, “and alleged encounters between les non magique with the yokai, narrated from a wizarding perspective. Written in classical notation, not contemporary.”

“I’ve never even learned how to—” she stopped mid-sentence, though her meaning was quite clear.

The wizard cast her a searching, albeit sharp stare. He blew another smoke ring. “Yõkai, elves, centaurs, mermaids, Veela, gnomes and dwarves…there are more than enough magical creatures in the world, mademoiselle. We do not need the shadow of shinigami hovering over our heads. They’re but an invention from the Christian faith, le Grim Reaper. Azrael. L’ange de la mort. Idle fancy.”

“Then why forbid us from discussing shinigami in the presence of Muggles at all?” Anna sighed, ignoring the pitiful look the wizard sent her way. She opened one of the books, careful hands flipping the pages — they were old, so very old, and filled with a myriad of unintelligible kanji that she couldn’t make sense of. Not without an army of dictionaries and many sleepless nights to look forward to.

“Private recherche would not be an affront to le nouveau law,” the wizard offered in a softer tone. As if nudging her towards a less daunting path. “Perhaps a book on fairy folklore might improve the mademoiselle’s spirits?”

Hesitating, Anna looked over the two covers once again. She could do it, couldn’t she? When had she ever been unafraid of toil?

...

TBC

#death note #l lawliet #fanfiction #the ides of april #crossover #harry potter #japanese mythology #european folklore #witches #wizards #original female character #oc character #l x oc

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sylviegunpla · 11 months ago

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Plamo?: Bandai Shokugan 66 Action Dash: Mega Man 2

This is a series of mini-figures that i think were sold in blind boxes, maybe? I think i still have the boxes, they might have been labeled; but when i bought them, it was as a set of all five off of the shopping website i won't name here. They're not full model kits, mostly poseable mini figures with some changeable parts. But those extra parts come on tiny runners, so maybe that counts for something? lmao. But they all came pre-painted, which they did a pretty decent job on. it's nothing spectacular, but probably worth the price you'd pay in Japan (I actually didn't check the MSRP on these because i assumed i was getting them at a markup) The reason i ordered this set is because they came with Vile and X figures, which are compatible with the Super Minipla line of Ride Armor's from Mega Man X (which will be a separate entry on this blog)

CUT MAN:

This CutMan figurine is pretty nice. As you can see these are eminently poseable, but they're also a little fragile. Still, once you get them into a decent position they tend to stay. The Rolling Cutter actually has a good friction fit in his right hand. SUPER MEGA MAN:

I love this boy. As a kid i had (and still have actually) a pencil topper of Super Mega Man. I love this little figurine doing the rocket punch from the games that have this feature. Gotta point out the paint jobs on these are pretty okay. Not like super refined but they're definitely charming and great. GEO STELLAR / MEGA MAN STAR FORCE??:

I admit, i don't know much about this particular subseries. I tried to play the first star force once, but couldn't get into it. nonetheless, he came with the set, so here he is, posing for you! MEGA MAN X:

Okay so this and the next figure are the primary reasons i got this set. As you can see, it comes with swappable pieces that allow him to pilot the Ride Armor Super Minipla kits. Not going in depth on these here, but here you can see the "painted" (with gundam markers) job i did in 2020 when i went full hog into Plamo. I believe the silver used was a metallic silver gundam marker, GM177 to be exact. It was very stinky!! A strong, acrid smell. Anyway, I'm currently working on repaints of the Chimera kit to recreate game-accurate-ish versions of the Hawk and Kangaroo Armor. Actually, here's a sneak peak of that:

Anywho, that's all for another post. The last guy left is..

VILE:

You know him as the devilish rival to X. You can see the minifig has a magazine for his vulcan coming from his backpack. The minifig is nice, though the only customization he has is the hands gripping the steering stick. Or you can make them look like he's laughing maniacally. Either way. Maybe the back of his head could use some panel lining and painting? but i don't feel like trying that over a pre-painted surface. Not sure why the joints seem to be splitting at the seams. Could be a good reason to revisit this model one day with sprue glue or some such. I usually keep these guys displayed diorama style in my light cabinet on the megamans shelf:

I know they've never actually faced off in their ride armors before. In my defense, toys are for making cool scenes so i will do just that with them. Anyway in conclusion, I really like Mega Man and have since i was a child, thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Here's the stats for this set (and yes some of the spare parts for these figs came on sprue)

Not super wasteful on the consumer side of the plastic equation.

#MegaMan #plamo #bandai #shokugan #mega man x

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lyra-brie · 1 year ago

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Find the Word Tag Game

I was tagged by @another-white-hole here. I believe the rules are to find the words you were given somewhere in your wip and share the snippets. My words were: animal, blue, and red. The scenes all ended up being from Idk, Dragons because they were easiest to find good ones for lol.

Aminal, from one of my favorite scenes where Elara and Jeldon dance in the still unnamed magic forest

Then, a group of fairy dragons flew off to the other edge of the clearing and pulled out these little objects she didn’t know how to describe, and then they started making these lovely sounds with them that made her want to dance more that before. Jeldon’s jaw had dropped a bit again. “What are those? How are they making those sounds?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity and wonder. “Those are instruments, but I’ve never seen or heard any quite like those. Instruments make noises called music. But this… This is magical. It doesn’t normally sound like this. And animals aren’t usually capable of playing instuments.” “This is what they talked about in the books?” This was better than anything she could’ve imagined. She grinned and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the center of the clearing. “Dance with me?” “I- I don’t know how-“ She frowned. “What do you mean you don’t know how? You just have to move.” He smiled a bit. “I’ll try. But I’m actually bad at this, so I’m sorry if I don’t live up to your expectations.” She tilted her head. “How can you be bad at dancing?” Jeldon just smiled more and shook his head a bit.

Blue, another scene I adore. The first time Jeldon and Elara saw each other in like 10 years and she hit him with a stick thinking he was a bear or something.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. Are you… are you okay?” “I’m great. I just got hit on the head with a stick. I think you cut me.” He held his hand to his ear. “I’m really, really sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to.” His midnight blue curls shined in the moonlight. She hadn’t even noticed the moon was out until now. It was way later than she’d expected. Jeldon had that angry look on his face, just like he had when they first met years ago. At least last time he hadn’t actually been glaring at her. This time he definitely was. “What are you even doing out in the woods this late?” “I could ask you the same thing.” It was a line she’d read in a book. She read the book months ago and had been waiting since then for an opportunity to use it. “I’m traveling. What are you doing?” “I’m traveling, too.” She raised her chin stubbornly. She wasn’t telling him anything more than he would tell her. He raised a brow at her. “Do you even know where you’re going?” “Absolutely. What kind of fool would be walking around in the forest in the middle of the night if they didn’t know where they were going?”

Red, this is the scene where we first meet Cynthia and Linda kidnaps her

“I’ve never gotten to see a dragon this close before.” Her voice didn’t shake, like Kalinda expected. She seemed to be in awe. “This is a wonderful way to die. I would be honored to die at your hands, magnificent beast.” This was a strange human, although Kalinda thought all humans were rather odd. Her hair was a silver-ish gray with red ends. The red definitely wasn’t natural in humans, but it fit her. Despite the fact that she seemed to be on the older end of the human lifespan, the woman carried herself like a warrior. The light gleamed on her medium-brown skin. “I need you to come with me.” She wasn’t sure how to interact with the human creatures anymore. It’d been so long. Maybe it would have been better to immediately explain that she wasn’t going to kill the woman, but the woman also didn’t particularly seem to care if she did. “Oh! You’re not killing me yet. Okay, I’ll totally accept a dragon ride before I die.” The woman was smiling. Definitely a strange one.

This was fun, I enjoyed looking for these.

I'll tag @chainsaw-raven @rains-inky-mind and @gummybugg. Your words are: fire, family, and life.

#writeblr #writblr #tag games #writing excerpt #my writing #idk dragons

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arjaandsimoni · 8 months ago

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Blood on the Snow

Covington Kentucky, Some Months After Prince Archibald’s Death

Tex and Stephy walked out onto the main street of Covington, a box of leftovers under the former’s arm as they headed back home, the snow crunching under their boots.

It was January now, the new year had come, and with it the cold of Winter. Weather Forecasters found it rather odd that despite years of climate change, the Greater Cincinnati area was experiencing what many would call ‘a proper winter’ for the first time since the 1990s.

Meteorologists would talk about microclimates, or how the Ohio Valley would trap weather patterns due to its shape, or such… but all it added up to was none of them knew why the hell it was happening.

To be fair, two changelings living there making a pact with the concept of Snow and Ice probably would be low on their list of plausible reasons. Their mother did help of course, just two changelings wouldn’t be able to affect a whole region like this, but she had accepted that they wouldn’t remain in Arcadia permanently and keeping them happy would at least ensure they returned regularly.

Tex shivered as they walked along back towards their home through ankle-deep snow, the boy wearing sturdy boots, a warm winter coat that went down past his waist, jeans, and a scarf around his neck. “Its real pretty, won’t deny that lil’ filly… but could ya’ll maybe turn up th’ thermostat just a notch or two?” he asked, shivering as his breath misted infront of him.

Stephy grinned at him, the fae princess wearing a fluffy long white coat over a pale blue top and long denim skirt over white leggings, a pair of knee-high snowboots on his legs. “I cooooooooould… but then so much of this lovely snow would melt away!” he teased.

Tex nodded and rubbed his hands together as best he could without dropping the leftovers from the restaurant where they’d had dinner. One of their favorites, a popular Indian eatery in town. Having spent time helping Arja and Simoni abroad so much had rather given them a taste for the food, though Stephy had to stick to the less spicy things due to his wintery nature. “I guess… just…”

“Oh why so pouty Prince Cowboy?” laughed a voice as a familiar figure danced out from behind them into their view, walking backwards with his hands in his pockets and a rogue-ish grin. He wasn’t dressed for the weather at all, or rather he was but didn’t care who thought it looked odd. He wore a long loose white silken tunic, tight black leather pants, high heeled boots with silver designs on them, and as always his rapier on his belt (hidden from mortal eyes.) His blonde hair had grown out enough to tie back into a small ponytail and his lips and upper eyelids were painted a glossy blue. He was taller than Stephy by almost half a foot now, and almost as tall as Tex when he didn’t have heels on, thin but not unhealthily so. He looked like a Shojou Anime character from the 90s come to life.

Prince Samuel ‘Sammi’ Montebank grinned at them both, “I daresay my dear sibling has the right of it! After all those horrid trips to India, New Orleans, and every other outrageously HOT place you could find in the mortal realm last year I am quite happy to be enjoying some proper weather at last!” he chuckled. Despite the light clothing he didn’t seem chilled in the least, but then as Prince of the Icebound Heart it would take the kind of cold found only in the depths of space to make him feel such things.

Tex sighed and rolled his eyes, “Hey Sam…” he said, though he did smirk a bit when he did. After all that they had been through he regarded Sammi as more an annoying cousin than anything bad, and he was a good person to have on your side in a fight.

“Oh hi Sammi. What’re you doing out tonight?” asked Stephy, cocking his head at his brother-by-sort-of-adoption. Their relationship had started out… well… extremely awkward to say the least, but he couldn’t deny having some familial affection for his rather eccentric sibling now.

“Me? Why I was out for an evening stroll and saw you both out at dinner!” he pouted, “I can’t believe you didn’t invite me! Do you not care if your dear brother starves, Princess?”

Tex snorted, “Ya’ll got enough goblins to do a freakin’ catering service back at the hideout Sam. Nobody is buyin’ that.” he replied.

Stephy giggled, “Besides, this was an Indian restaurant. We figured it’d be too spicy for you.” he pointed out.

Sammi paused at that, then pursed his lips and put a finger to his chin, “Ah, yes I suppose that would rather put a damper on the meal for me. Indians and their spices… we simply must find a proper French eatery around here someday.” he nodded.

“We looked, only ones are in Cincinnati proper ‘n are expensive as all hell.” Tex pointed out as Sammi fell into step next to Stephy, walking along with them.

Sammi waved his hand and smirked, “A formality! Why I have the kind of coin that is accepted anywhere after all…” he grinned, holding up a worn and beaten Wendy’s gift card, then with a wave of his hand it was suddenly a brand new looking Mastercard that just seemed to say ‘I have a higher credit limit that most country’s GDP.’

Tex frowned at him, “We ain’t pullin’ that ‘faerie gold’ stunt Sam! They track that shit now!” he pointed out.

“Oh please… let them try to track down the owner of this card. Quite the adventure that would take them on.” he chuckled, flicking it away as it burst into a cloud of snowflakes and scattered on the wind.

As the two griped at each other however Stephy sniffed at the air.

Something smelled… wrong… a thick acrid scent coming from a nearby alleyway.

“Hm?” he hesitated, trying to catch the scent again.

“Its still wrong Sam! If a server comes up short they gotta foot the bill!” insisted Tex, always leaning towards the cowboy lawman… or at least having a very strong sense of right and wrong if not upholding actual laws (given he knew full well how bullshit some were.)

“Not. My. Problem.” chuckled Sammi, “Besides, if they work that kind of venue they can afford to comp a single dinner…” he pointed out.

“Hey guys?” said Stephy, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “I smell something… bad.” he frowned.

The two paused, then looked around. Tex sniffed, “Just snow to me lil’ filly…” he murmured.

Sammi however narrowed his eyes, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, “That’s because you’re mortal Prince Cowboy. I smell it too dear sibling. Fear, lots of it.”

Tex glanced between them, then carefully put the leftover box down on a nearby bench, “Where?” he asked, his hand going to his pocket to draw what, at first glance, looked to be just a battered deck of playing cards.

“Alleyway to our immediate right.” whispered Sammi, looking around carefully. “Stephy, it is clear, no mortals nearby. I’ll come from the other end. Prince Cowboy, you take this one. Dear sibling, the skies are your’s.”

The three nodded, then Sammi took a step and vanished in a swirl of snowflakes as Stephy shrugged off his winter coat and tied the sleeves around his waist in a knot. His top was loose and had short wide sleeves… but then he always favored loose or no sleeves such as that for a very specific reason.

They didn’t get in the way when he needed to have wings.

The fae princess gave Tex a quick kiss on his cheek, then in a swirl of wind his arms and legs changed, becoming a pair of wings with sky blue feathers and pure white bird-legs with shining crystal-colored talons. He flapped once and shot into the skies.

Tex counted to ten, then drew a hand from the Very Useful Deck and in a swirl of magic was holding a revolver with a chamber that seemed to vibrate and rumble with thunder every few moments. “Alright…” he nodded, then he ran into the alleyway.

Laying on the ground inside it was a young man, and he was clearly dead. His throat had all but been torn open and his blood stained the mix of snow and salt on the ground. Across from him was a young woman, her eyes wide and horrified as she stared at his corpse, unable to scream as a hand was clamped over her mouth!

The one holding her mouth however… well… they were clearly not human. Tex had heard about this before, sometimes the curse could take its victims in strange ways, and this one had been even more cursed than his kind normally were! His face was twisted with bat-like ears and long sharp fangs. Not just two like most would have, but all through his jawline like some sort of shark or monstrous fish! His eyes were beady, but seemed to shine in the dark like a cat’s would, and he had almost no nose, just two slits on his face.

Tex took careful aim and fired a warning shot, a spark of electricity erupting from the wall above where the creature was holding the woman!

“That’s enough Vlad! Let ‘er go ‘n keep them claws where I can see ‘em!” he warned, aiming the gun at the creature now.

The woman’s eyes swiveled to him, but so did the monster’s face. “Back off bloodsack! This one is mine!” it snapped, literally snapped as its teeth gnashed together, and he could see they were still wet with the blood from the other victim!

Tex narrowed his eyes, then pulled back on the hammer of the revolver, “Ain’t gonna say it again ya overgrown ‘skeeto. Let. Her. Go.” he nodded firmly.

The creature sneered, “… or what?” it laughed.

“THIS!” laughed another voice behind him as a rapier burst through his chest from behind! The monster roared in pain and fury as ice formed around the hole, dropping his victim in shock as his claws swiped behind him, but Sammi danced out of his reach with a laugh. “HaHA! Too slow! That’s one for me monsieur!”

As he turned Tex opened fire, the gun cracking off loudly as a bullet shot forth from the barrel into the creature’s left shoulder, sparks arcing all over his form as he howled, then shook himself and turned back to Tex… just in time for Sammi to dart forward again and slash across his spine!

The creature looked left and right, but no matter where he did there was another foe behind him! If he focused on Tex he got Sammi’s sword, if he tried to retaliate against the changeling prince Tex fired his gun!

Finally he made his call and went for Sammi, reasoning the sword would be easier to deal with than the strange lightning gun! As he did however a chill wind came from above and the monster’s victim let out a shriek as she was lifted right up off the ground, a pair of white talons closing around her arms!

“Its okay! I’m here to help!” came Stephy’s voice as the fae princess flew her out of the alley and back onto the main street, dropping her as gently as he could. “Go! Run for it! We’ll deal with him!” he nodded.

The woman gave him a shocked look, having clearly never seen anything quite like him… but right now she wanted to be away from the throat-biting monster! She nodded weakly, then ran away as fast as the snow would allow her!

Stephy took to the skies again, then flew down over the alley. “All clear! She’s safe!” he called down as Tex and Sammi grinned to each other and nodded, the monster hesitating and looking back where he’d left his victim to see only a depression in the snow, then roaring in rage as he realized his meal had been thwarted.

As he was distracted however the two went for the kill! Tex’s gun rang out four times, the bullets slamming home into the monster’s back as his body erupted in electricity, the creature going rigid as Sammi darted forward and muttered in an ancient dialect of French, his sword suddenly coated in ice as it slipped right past the creature’s arms, under its ribs, and straight into its heart!

The moment the tip touched the heart the blood inside it froze violently, bursting out of it in a series of icicles! The monster gave one last roar as it’s body began to crumble, collapsing into a cloud of grave dust and bones as the changeling prince immediately ducked away, holding his hand over his nose and mouth.

“UGH! How disgusting!” he frowned as Stephy landed, taking his boots from where he’d tied the laces together around his neck and sliding them back on as his arms and feet changed back to normal, then sliding his coat back on.

“Yeah… vampire, one of the ones that gets all twisted up by the curse physically. What was that all about though? Usually those ones are even more careful than the ones who can pass for human.” he frowned. “They know full well even being seen can start a panic among the mundies.”

Tex shrugged, sliding the deck back into his pocket. “Search me lil’ filly. Maybe he was just really dang hungry?” he suggested.

Stephy shook his head, “No… those ones have learned to feed on animals if they’re desperate. This would have risked backlash from other vampires if he got caught. Risks the mundanes finding out about them…”

Sammi smirked, wiping his sword off with a lace handkerchief he pulled from seemingly nowhere. “Maybe they’re not worried anymore. After the past year… well…” he smirked.

The three nodded. The past year had been… interesting.

Before then supernatural occurrences had been kept rather well hidden, or as hidden as they could be in the era of smartphones, social media, and the internet… but then… well…

To be rather blunt, they happened.

First was the destruction of Inishmore Island, though most attributed that to a previously undiscovered undersea volcano rather than the death throes of a goddess of evil magic.

Then was the shattering of Claiomh Dorcadas, which reduced Castle Fullmoon to rubble. That was mostly overlooked by the mundane population of the world as it was so far out in the Irish countryside, but the destruction of it had sent those entities the sword had imprisoned within itself scattering across the globe.

One of those freed from the sword, however, had caused events that none could ignore.

Prince Indrajit, the vengeful son of the rakshasa king, Ravana, began a campaign to reclaim the Arrow of Rama, revealed to be a mundane blade itself, and free his father. Stephy, Tex, and Sammi along with their allies had fought against him… but after several events the existence of the supernatural had become impossible to deny.

The chaos that had erupted in New Orleans Louisiana following a misfired spell from a destroyed magical relic had made national news for one, and there were hundreds of images, videos, and such on social media involving all the alternate versions of Stephy running amok in the city (though happily very few of them resembled the one from this timeline closely enough to be identified as the same person… sort of.)

Then there was the manticore’s attack on Jaipur upon their return. They had defeated the monster, though it was a hard battle and without the help of their friend Aisha DeLane and none other than the Loa of Death Baron Samedi the manticore may well have killed them all. However, this battle occurred within the city, and they couldn’t hide this one at all. It was all over Twitter, Facebook, and every other social media site within minutes of the battle’s conclusion with many of their faces front and center of those pictures. (Nelen was still very upset about this.)

After this they fought Indrajit’s wife, the princess of all naga Sulochana, who fell to Stephy’s magics. The changeling princess was forced to fully embrace their fae nature, but he froze Sulochana solid and shattered her form, killing her. Upon hearing of her death, Indrajit was beside himself with rage and threw caution to the wind, attacking the hiding place of the Arrow of Rama to claim it, no longer caring if he was exposed.

A city falling under siege by an army of man-eating rakshasa is a hard thing to miss… though fortunately for them it was only the rakshasa. They found out afterwards that when Sulochana died the majority of the naga abandoned Indrajit’s cause, blaming her death on the princess’ support of his plan to free Ravana. No naga, not even her, could stand against magic that commanded frost and snow, the ancient bane of the snake-like people.

Finally, Sri Lanka had fallen under siege as Indrajit attempted to revive his father on the mundane world’s version of his ancient kingdom. There had long been debate about whether Sri Lanka was, infact, the Kingdom of Lanka which Ravana was purported to rule… but after the battle Nelen made a point of looking into it and found the answer: Lanka was the supernatural world’s version of the island of Sri Lanka, but when Ravana was defeated by Rama that version of the island sank into the ocean. Had Ravana claimed the mundane version, the island in the supernatural realm would have risen from the waves, restoring his kingdom in truth.

Instead what had happened was that Morrigan arrived with three faeries in tow, and together they… well… as Dawn put it ‘megazorded’ together into a massive woman calling herself The Lady of Seasons big enough to fight the giant rakshasa king. While Stephy, Tex, Sammi and the others held back the rakshasa army with the aid of the garuda and vanara native to the area the giants did battle in the ocean, and Arja and Simoni faced down Indrajit directly.

They had succeeded in defeating them. Ravana was cursed by the Lady of Seasons by having his body split into quarters and bound to the wheel of seasons, so that only one fourth of him would be real at any given time preventing his revival. Arja and Simoni defeated Indrajit, setting his body ablaze and throwing him into the ocean. Finally, the rest of them held back the rakshasa army until the defeat of Ravana and Indrajit broke their morale and the surviving monsters fled Sri Lanka for parts unknown.

They had succeeded… but a major Indian city had been invaded by an army of monsters while two giants fought each other in the ocean.

Nobody on EARTH missed that!

After that all it took was some supernatural beings with more balls than brains acting openly, and like a row of dominos down they all came.

These days it was… well… tense. Some places were more open to the supernatural than others. Some were… well… if you though the US south was bad for queer people, imagine how they feel about real faeries. Some churches were preaching that this was the true end of days and the demons were all coming up from Hell, citing what happened in India as just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

Most governments were doing their best to pretend it didn’t happen, if only because the ones in charge either didn’t want to have to deal with a real problem or because they were afraid those under them would find out exactly how they got into power.

As for the various hunter families in the world, it had been an extremely busy year. Clan Fullmoon, House Roche, and all the others were constantly stomping out fires and trying to explain as best they could to anyone who got any funny ideas how openly displaying powers put a massive target on their backs and to not do it unless it was ABSOLUTELY necessary. Yes the world knew about the supernatural now, no point in showing them where to AIM!

Stephy nodded back to Sammi, “Yeah… its been quite a year. Tex and I had some of our classmates asking us about what we got up to when we had to go on…” he made finger quotes, “… ‘family leave’ last year. I tried to get him away from the cameras in Jaipur but… I think at least one or two got him.”

Sammi nodded, “Mmm… I’m more worried if one of these overzealous preachers finds a mundane blade of their own and decides to start a crusade personally. If some of our historians are to be believed it wouldn’t even be the first time that had happened.” he frowned.

Tex however raised his hands, “Sam, Darlin’, we’re overthinkin’ this. It MIGHT just be nothin'. This little leech mighta’ just had a feedin’ frenzy and lost his senses for all we know. Unless it happens again, it could be nothin’.”

The two faerie shared a look, then shrugged, “I suppose you do have a point Prince Cowboy…” replied Sammi, “For right now, this is an isolated attack. We’ll just have to hope none of the other local undead follow suit.” he replied. “Now, how about you go fetch those leftovers before someone steals them and we all go see how your dear mother is doing?”

Tex nodded, “Shit yeah…” he replied, jogging out of the alley to retrieve the leftovers if they were still there, “Just mind yer dang manners this time Sam!” he called back.

Sammi sniffed, “Oh when have I ever been rude to her?” he replied.

Stephy rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. Sammi may be a changeling like him, but he grew up in Arcadia and didn’t quite get the difference between scathing cattiness and ‘constructive criticism.’

Still, he had to agree with Tex. For now they had thwarted one vampire who had quite possibly let the hunger get the better of him. It could just be that… if they were lucky.

#fiction #modern fantasy #supernatural adventures #lgbtq

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