#she's convinced she let that part of her die a long time ago

[formylovetodaryldixon]

“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. ��People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.  

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.  

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

[wistrea]

headcanon : reputation.

one of the most important things about kira is despite her reputation throughout the realm of hiraeth as the feared chaos witch is the fact that she forges bonds with the people she meets and actually allows to get to know her.  the infamy of her reputation is usually from knights of the order,   or monarchs who she has intentionally crossed before,   even archmages of mage towers because she threatens their very order and challenges their hierarchy of power as chaos incarnate.

it’s no secret that there are many enemies who would not think twice to take a dagger to her back,  and she believes she has earned their ire.   there are even more who have decided to fear her,   not just because she is the only one who is able to wield the magic of primordial chaos    ( a magic that is not labelled as feared because such a feat was never thought possible )   but because she has shown time and time again that she knows how to use it.    a walking calamity,   they’ve called her.    a title that one can associate with the smirking figure on wanted posters.    but if you asked the smallfolk and passersby,  they’ll remember kira horikoshi more than the chaos witch,  and many will have a kind word towards one of the most feared witches in their history.

the people of her hometown defend her name with every breath because the horikoshi siblings have protected anmatsuri for centuries.   their land is at the very edge of the empire of hazakura,   tasked with killing the abyssal beasts that threaten them during the time when the moon was banished from the sky.   that was a tradition that kira and her brothers upheld even when their parents had passed,  and they were so young still,   taking up a responsibility of not only their family’s legacy,   but the stability of their entire land.   the people of anmatsuri remember her as the little girl who would join her parents and brothers to the town to help them with their tasks,   and now as the witch who had a hand in making sure they had food and stability,  performed shows of magic for children,   who would defend her name even as the order brands her as a maleficar.

kira has done a lot for mages,   especially young ones who’s powers could have harmed them and those around them because they lacked the means to learn from a proper magic institution or were taught to fear or even be ashamed of their innate gifts.   there are many children who would tell stories about the witch in a purple robe who taught them spells when she passed through their town,   who helped calm their nightmares by teaching them how to silence the voices that plagued them.    the witch who banished the fear they harbored towards the lights in their hand by showing them how the stars glittered the same way.   kira who would give them the very staff she carried in her hands as a gift,   patting the top of their head and telling them to use it well.  

regardless of how expensive the artifact was or how important,    she gives it to them in hopes that they will learn magic as much as it can love them.    she was lucky enough to have been born to a family that never once made her fear her magic,    but she knows there are so many kids out there who do,    and she genuinely wants to help them.     how many children who’s education in the isles of lore     ( the best circle of colleges in hiraeth )    was sponsored by her just so they could have a chance.

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[yuwuta]

*TEST DRIVE — YUUTA OKKOTSU

❝I WILL NEVER LEAVE BY YOUR SIDE, DON’T YOU KNOW YOU GOT A RIDE OR DIE

pairings. okkotsu/reader, uhhh implied maki/nobara and sort of itadori/fushiguro but that’s not so important for now

warnings, themes. non-curse/modern au, marriage of convenience au, i thought long and hard about who would fit this trope best and all i can say is that i didn’t really pick just one in the end, so if this spirals in a wedding/marriage playlist, you’ve been warned, um… sort of implied possessive behavior on yuuta’s end but it’s only teased for now :)

word count. 2.5k i can yap about him all day

playing. test drive/ariana grande, going crazy/exo, heart of glass/blondie, idea/taemin, tipsy/chloe x halle 

“I just heard the funniest joke from Inumaki,” Nobara says, welcoming herself into your apartment. You’re not surprised, and continue with your dessert preparations. Yuuji, to your left, spares her a wave, before going back to diligently preparing the vegetables. 

Maki is the only one to respond by turning slightly in her seat to raise an eyebrow at Nobara when she walks up to the island, “Since when do you think Toge is funny?” 

“Not usually,” Nobara admits, taking the neighboring open seat. She crosses her arms atop the counter, and squints at you, “But he surprised me this time.”

Your eyes fidget to Maki, who seems equally confused by Nobara’s unnerving stare, then to Yuuji, who appears none the wiser, because he happily chirps, “Well, I wanna hear it! Tell us, Kugisaki!”

“He said that it was soooo kind of you to share your anniversary date with Yuuta and have us all over for dinner,” Nobara drawls, “Then I got confused, of course—but then I thought, ‘Maybe they’re secretly together and I just didn’t know. Wouldn’t be a huge surprise.’”

You flinch at that, “What do you mean that wouldn’t be a huge sur—”

“This is the funniest part, though,” Nobara squints, “He said that you’re actually married, and he meant that today is your wedding anniversary. He was pretty convincing, though. He’s very committed to the bit—even challenged me to ask you at dinner, but I figured I’d straighten it out now,” she drawls, reaching over to steal a cucumber slice from Yuuji’s station, “You’re not actually married to Yuuta, right?”

You pause, for too long. Maki’s disbelief shifts from Nobara to you, morphing into a threatening glare that makes you chuckle nervously. Yuuji keeps turning his head between you and Nobara, waiting for one of you to crack. 

It’s not her. “Okay… define married,” you mumble.

Nobara all but jumps across the island, standing up and slamming her palms on the counter top. “What do you mean ‘define married’—there’s only one definition!” Yuuji frantically sweeps his preciously sliced vegetables out of her range. “You’re either married to Okkotsu or you’re not, which is it?” 

You pause again. Too long this time. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Maki says, “It’s true? Toge says that shit all the time, how he can ‘still hear wedding bells’ when you two are around. Oh, I’m going to be sick.”

“Wait, you’re married?” Yuuji quips, “Since when? You should have told me, I would have gotten you a present!”

“Okay, okay—enough!” you yell, taking a step back, “It’s… true, but it’s not what you think. Yuuta and I are legally married, but we’re not together together.”

Nobara reaches to flick you on the forehead, “What the hell does that mean?” 

“It means, we’re married on paper only,” you explain, strategically placing your knife in the sink, far out of Maki and Nobara’s reach. 

“Say more words,” Maki demands, “Now.” 

You sigh. Even Yuuji has paused his preparations, blinking at you with those big, wide eyes, and you know for sure there’s no way out of this now. 

“It happened four years ago. I—”

Despite being the one who asked you to say more, Maki is the first to cut you off, incredulous, “Four years? You’ve been married to that beanstalk for four years and neither one of you twigs thought to mention it?” 

“Maki, let her finish,” Yuuji pitches in for you, reaching a comforting hand out to your shoulder, “Maybe she was dying and needed Okkotsu-senpai to sign her insurance papers so the government didn’t sweep her away! I saw that in a K-Drama once,” he smiles proudly. Nobara pinches her face in disgust, immediately refuting and calling Yuuji an idiot for believing everything he sees on TV. 

“Honestly, that’s not too far off. I’m not dying—and neither is Yuuta,” you hastily correct the worried faces peering at you, “But he was sick as a kid, and long story short is something got fucked up with his insurance when his parents died. It wasn’t a big deal, at first, but it spiraled into a bunch of issues, the biggest being the threat of taking his parents’ house away from him.”

Nobara pulls back, crossing her arms. “Why didn’t Gojo just do something then? That idiot has more than enough money to spare for some petty hospital bill, even with twenty years of interest.” 

“He did,” you assure her, “But then the house became its own problem. His parents didn’t leave the deed in his name, and the community board tried to say that Yuuta had no assets and wasn’t a favored candidate for their neighborhood, even if he was their son.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Maki interjects. 

“Yeah, totally not fair,” Yuuji pouts, “That’s his dead parents’ house and they wanted him to prove himself?” 

“Pretty much,” you sigh, “Basically marriage is something that helped prove his eligibility… plus some doctored philanthropic donations on Gojo’s end, and letters of recommendation from Shoko and her co-workers.” 

Nobara tuts her bottom lip out. “I don’t know, I’m not buying it.” 

“No, it makes sense. I’m sure by now all his parents’ neighbors are a bunch of uptight, old heads who didn’t want some kid throwing parties nearby,” Maki argues, “But once they hear he’s a young, married, nurse with a side hustle in philanthropy, I’m sure those geezers welcomed him with open arms. Sounds like some shit my family would do, too.” 

Nobara hums, factoring in Maki’s evaluation. “Okay fine. Yuuta marries you, he gets his parents’ house back and probably commits insurance fraud too,” she settles, “But what about you?—You said this was mutually beneficial, so what did you get out of it?” 

You probably should talk to Yuuta about revealing all the details of your marriage to your friends, but you knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Yuuta’s parents’ death and the issues that came along with it weren’t a secret at the time, but your problems are something you kept private. It’s a miracle you’ve gone this long under the radar, and you know Nobara isn’t going anywhere with unanswered questions. 

“Permanent residency status,” you tell her, “Yuuta’s a citizen, so in marrying him, all my problems about finding a job in six weeks after graduation disappeared.” 

“But… you got a job?” Yuuji questions, head tilted. 

“Yeah, eventually, but I didn’t know I would, and it was either take that chance, or be forced to go back home, and my time was running out,” you reveal, twiddling your thumbs together, “Look, I would have said something at the time, but everyone had their own shit to deal with after graduation. I would have asked any one of you to marry me, but I knew Yuuta was the only one with a reason to say yes.” 

The kitchen falls quiet as the news sits with your friends. Nobara and Maki’s stern disbelief slowly morphs into empathy, and Yuuji’s bright eyes grow steely with concentration as he pieces your story together. 

Then he springs up, “Wait, I totally would have married you, senpai!” 

You laugh, a lightness easing its way back into the room. “Thanks, Yuuji,” you lean to give him a kiss on the cheek, but you’re met with Nobara’s outstretched palm instead. 

“Nuh-uh. Just because I think this marriage is insane doesn’t mean that I condone adultery.” 

“It’s not adultery. I told you, Yuuta and I are married on paper only—he’s free to date and kiss whomever he pleases, and so am I,” You roll your eyes, pushing her hand away and giving Yuuji a kiss anyway, which he happily accepts, sticking his tongue out in mockery at Nobara.

Maki scoffs, “Are we sure that Yuuta knows that?” 

“Of course he knows that.”

“So then why hasn’t he dated anyone?” Maki presses, eyes lowering into a teasing glare. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Who Yuuta does or doesn’t date isn’t really my business.” 

Nobara pulls at her hair, “Yes it is. You’re his wife.” 

“His contractual wife,” you correct. 

“Contractual?” 

“Wait—have Yuuta and Toge not totally kissed on several drunk, or am I the only one who saw that?” Yuuji interjects.

“No, that was you and Fushiguro,” Nobara says, “And nobody cares about you two right now.” 

You put a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, “I care about you, Yuuji. Please, tell us about your drunk escapades with our dear Megumi.” 

“Save it, Itadori,” Maki cuts in, crushing Yuuji’s bright demeanor, “You and Yuuta are way more pathetic. Keep talking.” 

“Since when do you even like to gossip?” 

“Since she met me,” Nobara gleams, proudly, “Now, keep going.” 

You give Yuuji an apologetic glance before continuing, “I just mean that by the end of this year, Yuuta and I can get amicably divorced without raising any suspicion. Our marriage can’t be contested as a sham, I’ll be eligible for citizenship and housing on my own, and all will be well.” 

It’s quiet again, for a moment. You bite your lip in anticipation. Ultimately, you knew that none of your friends would judge you and Yuuta for what you did, but it wasn’t exactly normal to marry your friends for legal benefits, and then hide your marital status from almost everyone you knew. Still, this conversation was going about as well as it could, until Maki starts laughing. 

Her laughter starts off quiet, then grows gradually, until it becomes concerning. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Maki actually laugh before—a few amused grunts, and occasional drunk giggles, yes, but full-on, blown laughter is a first. It’s scary, and as you glance at Nobara and Yuuji, you’re clearly not the only one worried. 

“You actually believe that he doesn’t feel anything for you—that’s rich,” she says through laughter, clutching her stomach, “God help you if you think you can just divorce him. You two are so fucked, you deserve each other.”

“Wait, speaking of rich, did you sign a prenup? Isn’t Yuuta totally loaded now that he’s a nurse and related to Gojo—I also don’t think that you’ll be able to divorce him that easily, but if you kill him, you could be an instant millionaire,” Nobara reasons. 

“That’s so shallow!” Yuuji exclaims, “Also, I’m a nurse, and I wouldn’t say I’m loaded.” 

“That’s because you’re not cute like Yuuta,” Nobara mocks, “If you were, then you’d make the big bucks.” 

“I’m cute!” Yuuji cries, turning to you, “I’m cute, right?” 

You reach to pat his head, “Yes, Yuuji, you’re very cute. And perfectly well off enough. Yuuta works inhumane hours for his money, don’t be like him.” 

“Itadori, you make, like, quadruple what the average person makes,” Maki reminds him, “You just spend it all just as quickly.” 

Nobara scoffs, “Which he can afford to do because he’s a nepotism baby.” 

“You just said I was poor and ugly, and now I’m a nepotism baby? Pick a story, Kugisaki!”

“I don’t have to pick shit. Nanami-san sponsors your entire life, and enables your bad spending habits,” she huffs, “Yuuta’s a nepotism nurse, too. In fact, you both make me sick.” 

“Okay, then by that logic Fushiguro is also a nepotism baby!”

“Well, duh. He’s, like, the poster child for nepotism babies all around the world.” 

You drown out Nobara and Yuuji’s argument, mulling over Maki’s words instead. Did she mean to imply that Yuuta would make your divorce difficult on purpose?—you don’t see why; Yuuta doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body, and it wouldn’t serve him any purpose. You didn’t sign a prenup, but you would never argue ownership over any of his assets, and you know that Yuuta knows that; he’d already given you so much, you would never try to take anything from him. 

In fact, getting divorced would only open more doors for him. You don’t know if Yuuta hasn’t dated in the past four years out of some lingering loyalty to your marriage, but if that was the case, then you don’t want to stand in his way for any longer than necessary, and you especially don’t want him to grow to resent you for it. He would no longer be unnecessarily bound to you; he’d be free, legally, to carry on with his life—you would be the only one indebted to him for his boundless kindness. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought much of your divorce throughout your marriage. You knew that after five years, you could get divorced without consequence, but you hadn’t pictured how that would go. The thought of it somehow messing with your relationship to Yuuta, and your mutual friendships makes your head hurt. Maybe you should have married Yuuji instead. 

“Are you kidding, Yuuta would have mauled him,” Nobara chuckles, “Plus he would have lost his childhood home.” You blink. Guess you said that last part out loud. 

Her words spark more bickering between her and Itadori, and this time you turn to Maki. It was evident that she was just as much in the dark as anybody else about your secret marriage, but, still, it seemed like she knew something that you didn’t. 

“Maki, does... you said I think that Yuuta doesn’t feel anything—then what does he feel?” 

Maki blinks, then shakes her head, “You clearly don’t know who you married. That’s for you and your husband to work out.” She continues, this time that same wicked laughter is back, “Just know that whatever your plan for divorce was, it’s not going to be that easy. Yuuta is stupid, clearly, but he’s not that dumb. At least, I hope not.” 

You pout, shoulders slumping. That was about the most cryptic and least comforting response a person could give, but you shouldn’t have expected more from Maki. Luckily, Yuuji moves to give your shoulders a comforting rub, forgoing Nobara’s exclamations of him being a homewrecking harlot. 

At this point, you can’t tell if their arguing or your overthinking is causing your headache. Maybe you should cancel this group dinner all together; there’s no way you and Yuuta won’t be the topic of conversation all night, and you’re not exactly looking forward to pairing Maki’s mystic messages with Toge’s public humiliation, unless you start consuming liquor now. 

Deciding that’s the best plan of action, you turn to your cupboards to reach for a bottle of wine, pawning off popping the cork to Maki when your phone buzzes, catching your attention. 

It’s a text from Yuuta, similar to one you’ve received on this day every day, for the past four years, with something a little extra tacked on this year. 

from: yuuta 🌟 — happy anniversary (and i’m not just saying that because the feds are watching) (＾∇＾) — cheers to us, and many more! 🖤

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Butterfly I

a/n I'm clawing my way into this fandom since salt and pepper god took over my brain! Be gentle with me since it's my first time writing for this man! Happy reading! 🤍

summery: When Joel thinks that his life is over his little butterfly sends him a new reason to stay alive. The only problem is that he doesn't know how to love but when you are the meaning of love itself how can he not fall.

Part II can be found on my blog

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World had ended twenty years ago for Joel. Even more so, he was sure that he had died alongside Sarah. If he had a chance, he would have gladly been buried by his little girl. He didn't have a reason to be alive. Well, there was Tommy, but at that moment even that didn't seem like enough to keep him going. The moment Joel failed to do his first and most important job—protect the ones he loved—changed him without a chance of going back.

The morals had to die soon as well, and Joel had learned it the hard way. He tried to fight and protect the innocent at first. To stupidly ensure that everyone had been taken care of in the same amounts. Well, that resulted in him getting beaten multiple times. He didn't fight it at first. The physical pain numbed the emotional scars. But then something snapped in him, and he longed for the first blow. Then the second. Third. With a realization that this was how his sorry life was going be for the rest of his pointless existence. To fear less, Joel needed to become someone people feared, and he did just that.

Until, after one of his deals, he ended up running into you. Completely by accident as he tried to get away from the people he just had business with. Joel bumped into you, knocking you to the ground and causing you to hit your head on the pavement. "Shit, fuck", the male kneeled beside you cursing. You just laid there, and for a split second, Joel was convinced that you had died, until you let out a growl as you moved your hand to gently touch your pounding head. He debated whether he should just leave you there or take you back to his place. The first option was less complicated and demanded fewer efforts from him, but when he saw your eyes as you tried to look around, seeking to find who had caused such a collision, that's when he knew he couldn't just walk away like that.

Then a smile crept onto your face, followed by a light chuckle, and something inside Joel twisted again. He hadn't heard the sound of laughter in years. "Dang, for a moment I saw white horses running around", you laughed out loud, covering your eyes with your hands. Even more, concern washed over Joel. Had you hit your head that hard? He couldn't afford to get you medication or even a doctor for that. So he did the next best thing - assisted you in getting up and walking you to his place.

Everything after that was made up of Joel trying to hurt you so you would leave him and go your way. He desperately wanted to push you out of his life because he was afraid to admit that Sarah would have loved you. That she would have been nagging him constantly to bring you around. Imagining how life would have been with you before the outbreak. How would it have felt to come home to you making dinner? Hearing you and Sarah laughing together. Joel knew—he knew without even needing to think about it much—that his daughter would have loved you. He wished she had had the opportunity to experience your motherly love. The effortless, endless love that poured from within you. And finally, have a truly normal family built on love.

After all, Joel was convinced that Sarah had sent you to him herself. As if it was her way of making sure, even from heaven, which Joel barely believed in, that her father lived. Not just used up air and wasted his days away but found something to live for. You angrily bandaged Joel's arm one evening after yet another deal had ended poorly, leaving the man with a nasty cut on his forearm. Well, if he could even call that anger. Joel doubted you had that emotion implanted in your brain. You had pushed up your sleeves, not wanting the ends of them to get damp as you moved back and forth between a bowl of warm water and a cloth to clean the blood off his skin. That was the first time Joel saw the ink on your body. A butterfly, and then another one just above the first one.

Joel thought he imagined it at first. He knew he must have looked like a lunatic to you when he gripped your left hand firmly before pushing the material of your sleeve even further up. Three butterflies. All inching further up and up. Butterflies. Sarah loved them; she was Joel's little butterfly. The butterfly that got crushed by the brutality of this world.

"Joel," you carefully mumbled as his fingers traced the tattoos. A flicker of what was behind the mask flashed in his eyes. You knew that he was a broken man. People talked, and even if half of what they were saying was true, it was a lot to go through. Especially alone. Especially after losing the main purpose of your world. "This… when did you get this?", his words came out harsh, as if you should have felt guilty, "Not long before the outbreak. It just…", you giggled to yourself, "Feels silly now that they symbolize growth, a new beginning, and shit". However, it didn't seem stupid to Joel even if he had yanked the cloth out of your hand, pushing you out of the bathroom. Emotions took control of him. He couldn't love you. Couldn't stand you. But the way you kept knocking at the door, concern in your voice as you pleaded with him to let you in, only proved what he already knew. You two had found someone to hold onto. As scary as it may sound.

When Ellie first met you, she couldn't believe that you two were even here and had somehow mutually agreed on something. It seemed impossible to her. You were the polar opposite in her eyes. From the moment in the hallway when Joel had yanked her against the wall, you had warned the male as you leaned over to the girl. Ellie backed away at first, but it's like you had a magical touch, and not even a blink later, she was clinging to you as if you were the last straw for her survival. Joel had only grumbled more at the sight of that. "Get your hands off her," he said, motioning with the gun for the girl to move away, but all you did was tilt your head to the side, giving him one of those looks. "Joel…" you warned him, before turning your attention to the girl, "I'm Y/N, and that's Joel. He's always grumpy. It comes with age, so don't pay too much attention to him." For a moment, Ellie got scared that the gun might now end up being pointed at you, but the male only tightened his jaw before lowering the weapon. And that didn't change when you crossed the wall. You were there talking with her, making sure that she was okay, ensuring that Ellie's desire to communicate was satisfied, while Joel just frowned.

"Here you are", Joel's voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled at him softly. You had just made your way to the safe house. Days of traveling rubbed off on all of you, so you were more than happy to indulge in some peace. "Was wondering where you crept away", even if Joel was 99 percent sure that he was going to find you here once he didn't find you in the dining room. It only took one look outside to know you'd be on the patio. Curled up on the bench watching the sunset. Any time you came by Bill's and Frank's, you always spent your evenings there.

"Missed the view," you mumble, resting your chin on your knees, "Or maybe the fact that there is nothing to fear here." Joel moved to sit next to you. His own eyes admired the view. He stopped doing stuff like this. Before the outbreak, it was work, work, work to keep a roof over everyone's heads, bring food, and give Sarah the best life that she deserved. After… well, moments like this felt almost forbidden. Not to mention that letting your guard down could get you killed. "Come here," Joel said, nudging your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you. Interactions like that between the two of you were rear but not completely foreign. You two had shared the bed numerous times. Joel had offered you a warm embrace when he saw that the world was close to crushing you. But you had never talked about who you two were or if you were anything more than a bed warmer for one another. "You do know that I would do anything to protect you?", Joel spoke out under his breath, bringing you even closer to him. Your heart skipped a beat as you moved your palm to cup his jaw, leaving a couple of kisses there as you nodded.

"Do you think they were happy when they…", you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence as the lump in your throat grew bigger. Joel hummed, "They had each other. That's all Bill and Frank needed". You moved to rest your head on Joel's shoulder. Breathing in both the scent of him and the brisk evening breeze. "Do you ever dream about finding the love they had?", the question was silly, truly, and you knew it. You and your existential questions had pissed Joel off more than once, but for some reason, you never stopped asking them. And for some reason, even through gritted teeth, Joel always answered them. The silence fell between you two for a moment. Joel hesitated to give you an answer. The truth was that the ten years you'd spent by his side had been surreal for him. Even if he constantly pushed you away, no matter the arguments you two would have, he always came back to you. Always. And you never walked away. You were always there waiting for him, even when he quite literally told you to get lost. When you were apart, all Joel could think of, was you. Nothing else mattered. He didn't matter. It was you who swirled around his mind. "Well," the male trailed off, "I've already…" But the door on the patio shot open as Ellie walked out, still looking down at the drawing on the shirt you had found for her.

"Hey, did you know that wild berry soup smells like strawberries?", she beamed till her eyes fell on the two of you. Her face instantly shifted since she had never seen you two this close. Well, she assumed that you might be together, but since she didn't see any grown-up interactions being exchanged, she just pushed that thought to the side. "Shit man, you are together. I was talking shit about him to you," Ellie practically cried out as she raised her hands above her head, making you let out a laugh against Joel's shoulder. "We're not dating, bug", "She talked shite about me?" you and Joel said at the same time. The fact that he had gotten visibly offended by it made you let out another chuckle before you tapped his chest a couple of times.

"Girls have to stick together," you shrugged, and Ellie quickly gave Joel the middle finger. "Okay, enough, you two. Go insane, pick something for dinner, and I'll be right behind you," you said, throwing the blanket you had with at the girl, as ushered Ellie inside. You brushed your hand over Joel's chest as you walked towards the door. Joel's brain screamed at him to catch your hand. To make you stop so he could tell you the words he was meaning to say before Ellie walked in, but he didn't. Only tightening his jaw as his lips thinned into a tight line. He was a fool. A true fool who never truly learned to express himself. If only he could, maybe he would be able to call you his.

Joel's gaze immediately shifted to the window that peaked into the inside of the house once the sound of something falling echoed through the air. You and Ellie were on different sides of the island. The girl had one of those smirks that usually led nowhere good on her face. Then the sound of laughter shot through the space as you took off running to grab hold of whatever Ellie was holding in her hands. The girl squealed as you both ran in circles. "Give me the spaghetti hoops, you little thief!", you yelled, but that only made Ellie laugh more. "I'll tell Joel", you tried to threaten her, but she only let out a huff, "You wouldn't snitch", Ellie narrowed her eyes at you. You quickly hopped onto the island and slid to the other side, taking hold of both of Ellie's hands but losing your balance as you two tumbled to the ground. Joel practically ran inside at the sight of that, the worst scenarios already running wild. He couldn't let you get hurt. Neither of you could get hurt.

Joel rounded the corner, his heart already beating fast. And here you were. Ellie was nearly on top of you as you, as you two stared at each other, both still confused at what had just happened. And then there it was again. The laughter. The whole-hearted laughter drenched Joel's heart dry. Your arms wrapped around Ellie as she giggled away, pressing her cheek against your chest. Joel picked up the can of spaghetti hoops that had rolled off and were long forgotten. "Oh no, daddy is here, and he is mad," Ellie shrieked playfully, not lifting her head away from you. "Don't call me that shit," Joel warned her before slamming the can against the counter. He quickly turned around, running a hand over his face. Your expression clouded as well. Carefully, you helped Ellie stand up. Her eyes were looking at you as if she were silently asking if she had overstepped a boundary, but you just gave her a quick wink before pointing to the pot. In a couple of steps, you reached Joel as your hands ran down his back. His muscles tensed under your touch, but the moment you pressed a kiss in between his shoulder blades, Joel let out a sigh. "How about you take a shower while we heat up the food? Clear your mind and all that?", you continued to draw patterns on his skin. Joel didn't say anything as he stepped away from you and over to the stairs.

"Is he mad with me?", Ellie's voice made you turn to her. Her big eyes watched you as you shook your head. "He… well, Joel struggles with his emotions. He cares a lot, but that ends up overwhelming him, and then this happens," you said softly, Ellie nodded her head as if agreeing with you. You nudged her shoulder gently and asked, "Want to make the whole feast tonight? Get the canned sausages out." The shower was indeed all that Joel needed. The hot water took that extra weight of tension off his shoulders, and the fresh set of clothes made him feel like a new man. He was excellent at ignoring his basic needs, but with you, there was no need to worry about that because you always reminded him about all the little things. Things to made him feel better.

Ellie was delivering joke after joke while you all ate. Her energy was surprisingly high, considering that the last couple of days had been rough. "I'm telling you, he just knows all the jokes", she grumbled when Joel hit the right answer to her fifth joke, defeating the purpose of her performance. Joel's hand had slipped under the table, casually resting on your thigh, and you occasionally gave it a little squeeze as if to ensure him that you were here with him. "Okay, can I try?", you weren't much of a jokester, but everyone knew a joke or two. Ellie nodded her head eagerly. You cleared your throat, "What do you call a fish with a bow tie?" You questioned the two of them, trying not to break into a smile. Ellie shrugged her shoulders. "SoFISHticated," Ellie just gaped at you, but Joel snorted under his breath. Your eyes fall on him in an instant. He shook his head, trying to keep the smile off his face. "You laughed, you fucker," Ellie said, pointing her fork at Joel. "I didn't," Joel argued back, "Yes, you fucking did. Y/N tell him", "Yeah, Joel, I consider that a laugh", you moved your hand to gently rub the back of his neck, and his eyes met yours. He got lost in the depths of them just a bit before another laugh escaped his lips. You bit your lip as you watched him, realizing how much you had missed the sound of that. Since the only time you heard it was when the two of you got shitface drunk, and he fell while trying to take his pants off.

"You can fucking laugh. Dude, you're normal," Ellie beamed, watching Joel chuckle. "Eat your noodles before I take them away," Joel warned, reaching over and scooping some of the spaghetti hoops from Ellie's plate, making her protest straight away. She leaned across the table to do the same, but Joel brushes her spoon away easily. "No playing with the food, you two," you gently warn them, even though you enjoyed watching them interact, especially Joel letting her in. They instantly settle back down, even if they continue to watch one another from the corner of their eyes.

Yeah, this was the closest to home that Joel had gotten in over twenty years. Now all he needed to do was own up to his feelings. Admit to himself that the scary feelings won't disappear. But he was going to be equally scared with you or without your officially being a part of his life. And he had promised Sarah, his little butterfly, that he wasn't going to let this go to waste. And that the three butterflies on your hand were possibly you, Joel, and Ellie; that you were all fated to meet. Maybe you two were sent here to change his life. Teach Joel how to fly again.

[camille-lachenille]

After the war of the last alliance and Gil-Galad’s death, Elrond is in a pretty bad mental state. The healer in him recognises deep depression and ptsd but he shoves everything in a box locked deep within his heart, the box where he keeps memories of his brother and parents, and plows on as he builds Rivendell.

He is happy when Celebrían returns his affection and accepts his courtship, he really is happy, or at least he convinces himself that he is, that everything is fine and will get better with time.

Some time right before their wedding, Celebrían starts to worry that Elrond doesn’t love her anymore, bc he avoids her and acts strangely. She manages to sit him down and really talk about how he is feeling. Elrond rushes to reassure her he is still madly in love and wants nothing more than wed her but then, at Celebrían’s insistence, he confesses how scared he is. He is scared to taint her with his darkness and that she desserves better than him and that he must be wrong in his head if he can’t be fully happy with her. He cries a lot, like he has’t in centuries, and Celebrían holds him through it. And then, when he is coherent again, she asks him if he loves her.

“More than anything, I would die for you!” comes the rushed but deeply sincere answer.

And Celebrían looks at Elrond in the eyes, more seriously than she ever has, her hands resting on his shoulders and she tells him “You say you’d die for me. But would you live for me, if I ask you so? ”

Elrond can only nod as he starts crying again, because he will do anything for Celebrían, even tasks that seem impossible. And so, he starts to live again. It is painful, gruesome work but he sees it to the end for the love of his life, if not himself at first.

And for a time Elrond is well and truly happy. He and Celebrían get married at long last, and have first two beautiful sons and then a wonderful daughter, and the sadness seems banished far away.

Until Celebrían nearly dies at the hands of orcs.

Elrond isn’t a husband then but a healer, locking his feelings behind the professional mask again until he is sure Celebrían will live. And then, behind the locked door of their -his- room, he lets the tears come. He cries until he has nothing left and then some more. He failed to save his wife, because even he cannot mend a broken soul.

Elrond and his children see Celebrían to the ship that will bring her to Valinor and, hopefully, healing. There are tears and embraces and, before parting, Elrond presses a kiss to Celebrían’s forehead and whispers to her “Promise me you will live, for me, just as I promised I would live for you all those years ago. And I promise I will live for you forever.”

And Celebrían smiles weakly and nods. She knows what it looks like, to cling stubbornly to life and happiness. “I will live, I promise,” she whispers back.

And live she does, until she can be reunited with Elrond.

The Celebrían who greet Elrond in Valinor is happy and full if life but, in her eyes, he can see his grief mirrored. She healed, ans he knows he too will heal in time, but he is also deeply grateful they can share this grief until the happy memories become stronger and they can remember Arwen, they sweet, wonderful, stubborn, brave daughter without the pain. The memories will always be a little bittersweet but the happy time they had together as a family is stronger than grief.

Until one of their sons sails. Alone.

Elladan sails, bringing news that Elrohir will not come. He stayed with Arwen until the end, spending more and more time in Gondor and with Men in general. He was so happy, Elladan explains between his tears. He was carefree and full of a delight for adventure and hunger for the unknown so proper to Mortals. Elrohir didn’t choose mortality because of love of a person but for love of life itself. He was bright and curious and wanted to know all the unknown answers. He died like he lived, with passion and happiness and mischief. And Elladan cannot begrudge his twin’s choice because he saw just how peaceful Elrohir was on his deathbed, grey haired and face lined by time and laughter, as he slipped out of the bounds of Arda and into his next adventure.

[maxislvt]

Could I request a dark fic where Vampire!Wanda and Mortal!Reader fall in love, and after getting married, Wanda offers to turn Reader into a vampire but Reader says no. However, years go by and Reader is on their deathbed, about to succumb to old age, when Wanda decides she must turn Reader whether they like it or not.

Thank you!

p.s. i am a simp for Vampire Mommy Wanda

warnings: angst, mention of terminal illness, arguin

I didn't realize the old age part so this is just kinda sadder than need be

Death was the price that came with loving a mortal.

As a vampire, Wanda was cursed to live forever. An eternity filled with nothing but quick flings that would amount to nothing in the end. It was a rather sad love life, but Wanda had convinced herself she was okay with it. With a legacy to keep secret and company to run — her schedule was pretty tight. A relationship would just add more stress. That's what she told herself. Then you came along and ruined a near two hundred year streak of being single.

You were everything Wanda wanted in a lover. Someone gentle and kind to cut down the bitterness she'd collected over the years. It didn't take long for her to realize how much she needed you. Wanda clung to you for dear life. The mere thought of you leaving her sent her into a spiral. You were always quick to put out her fears. You never even considered leaving Wanda. She gave you her everything — you had no reason to.

Wanda wasn't entirely sure what she'd done to make you change your mind.

"You said—" Wanda took a deep breath. She'd never been so upset with you before. "You said you'd never leave me! We were supposed to be together forever." You always had a way of making Wanda feel things that had laid dormant for years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this upset. Her cheeks burned with hot tears. After everything she had done for you, you were still so comfortable just leaving her? It wasn't fair. "I won't be able to love anyone else."

You flinch at the harsh reality in Wanda's words. "I'm not leaving you. It's just my time to go." You had come to terms with the fact you'd die months ago. The doctors handed you a diagnosis and said you only had so long. Fighting it was futile. You didn't expect Wanda to be okay with it. Finding love after decades of loneliness only to have it ripped away was a pain beyond your imagination. But you only had about two weeks left and you didn't want that dread hanging over your head the entire time. "Just love me as much as you can, while you still can." You spoke as softly as you could. "Come here, I want to cuddle."

Wanda took a deep breath before laying down next to you. Fear still ran hot through her vines. It was making her irrational. "I could do it forever if you'd just let me-"

"I don't want to be turned into a vampire. You have to respect that. "

"I don't want to be alone forever, can't you respect that?"

You sighed and rubbed your temples. "Wanda, you're being selfish. Think about all the people I care about and would have to watch die. I can't do that." Your arms wrapped around Wanda's body and pulled her close. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore. Let's just call it a night. Please?"

Wanda pulled away and looked down at you. She could see life fading from your body. You were paler and the bags under your eyes were getting darker. Even the light in your eyes was starting to fade. It was like looking at a doomsday clock meant specifically just for you. Wanda would do anything to keep that clock from sticking 12. She wasn't going to let you die. Your approval was going to have to take the backseat for her to do that. "Okay, I won't bring it up anymore." She placed a gentle kiss on your lips before laying back down and holding you close.

She wasn't foolish enough to do it while you were awake. Once Wanda was sure you'd fallen asleep, her fangs buried themselves into your lower back. Sickness had tainted the taste of your blood forever ago. The sugary sweetness had now faded into something bitter and medicinal. She sucked until she had taken just enough to turn you. Her tongue licked at the wound so it'd be healed by the morning.

You'd hate her for it. Maybe you'd argue again or run off screaming with the hopes of finding a cure. You would come back eventually. Eventually, Wanda would be the only one you'd have left to run to. It appeared you had figured that out faster than Wanda expected.

Wanda expected nothing less from someone as smart as you.

"Wanda," You whispered from the bathroom. Despite calling for her, you didn't even spare your partner a glance. Your eyes focused on the cut quickly healing on your finger. You wipe away the blood slowly. Focusing on the task to avoid blowing up at the woman standing in the door frame. A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you turned to face her. "Why'd you do it?" The look in your eyes was cold and almost uncaring.

That wasn't the first time you looked at her like that. It certainly wouldn't be the last now that you two had an eternity together.

"I did what I thought was best." Wanda stretched out her arms. "I know it's going to be scary at first, but I'm going to be here with you every step of the-"

You quickly pushed past Wanda. You grabbed a bag and began stuffing your clothes in it. "I can't be around you right now." Every word Wanda said fell on deaf ears as you continued packing. There was nothing she could say that would make you feel better. Just as you tried to zip up the bag, Wanda tried to snatch away. "Wanda, I don't want to hear it!" You shouted before snatching the bag away from her. It felt good to be strong enough to stand up for yourself. You turned and walked away.

"Stop walking away from me and listen!"

Your body stopped dead in its tracks. How could you have forgotten? Turned vampires were nothing to someone from a bloodline as powerful as Wanda's. That was just another way you'd be inferior to her.

Wanda turned your body so you were forced to look at her. "I did what I had to do to keep us happy. I will not sit here and let you make me a villain for putting you first!" She could see the anger burning bright behind your eyes "I gave you my whole heart and I'm not going to let you run off and break it!" It didn't feel right yelling at you. It wasn't your fault you were born a mortal or her a vampire. But something had to be done in order for you two to stay together. Wanda needed reassurance but all you were showing her was animosity. "Say something damn it! I need you!"

For a moment you just stared at Wanda. Fighting the urge to obey her wasn't easy, but you weren't going to let her win.

"I hate you more than anything right now."

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

5 times Steph and Eddie refer to each other as husband and wife +1 time they make it official

Part 1 (also on ao3 here)

...............................................

Stevie probably should have shut this all down weeks ago.

The kids have been calling her mom since before she even came out to them, so she’s admittedly kind of given up on stopping that one. The problem is now they’ve gotten Eddie in on it.

Well, Eddie’s not calling her mom. If he started doing that, she thinks she’d no longer be fit for public. She’d have to crawl in a hole and never come out, like how old cats sometimes wander away to die alone, except she’d be dying not of old age but of the mortification of an unrequited crush. So luckily, that isn’t happening.

But now, as she arrives at the Wheelers’ house to pick up the kids after a D&D session, she’s forced to confront the fact that Eddie calling her mom is not apparently the worst thing that could come of this whole thing.

It starts when she’s getting on Dustin’s case about leaving his shit all over the basement. These kids treat every space they’re in like they own it, but Stevie is very aware how hard Karen had to work to convince Ted to let Eddie host Hellfire here, and she’s not about to let that hard work go to waste just because the kids left the basement a bomb site.

Dustin rolls his eyes at her nagging, lets out a long-suffering sigh and a “Yes, mom,” and Stevie has barely finished giving him an obligatory sisterly noogie before things get out of hand.

“If Stevie’s our mom, does that make Eddie our dad?” Lucas says, casually, completely unaware that putting ‘Eddie’ and ‘dad’ in the same sentence has just completely broken Stevie’s brain.

Eddie, though. Eddie smells blood in the water. He’s got that look on his face, that one Stevie usually loves, the one he always gets right before he commits to a bit with overdramatic vigour.

Sure enough, Eddie immediately prostrates himself over the couch, hand to his forehead, looking the picture of a lovelorn idiot. “Stevie,” he says, sounding genuinely heartbroken. “It’s just been so hard, raising our kids alone since the divorce.”

Stevie scoffs. “You’re raising our kids? You get them for a few hours once a week, pretty sure I’m the one shuttling their ungrateful asses to and from school every day.”

“Ungrateful?” Dustin splutters, as if he doesn’t show up at Stevie’s door at entirely random times of the day and demands she drive him to whatever nerd shit he’s got going on next.

“You’re right, that’s unfair,” she says, and then before anyone can get a word in: “You’re lovely, Will, always so polite. But the rest of you little shits. Ungrateful.”

Will smiles serenely as his friends immediately erupt into complaints, and Eddie ignores them all to prostrate himself at Stevie’s feet.

“I know I haven’t been around often, but baby, won’t you give me another chance?”

Stevie thinks she’d probably give Eddie anything he asked for, as long as he’s asking on his knees before her. It’s definitely a good look for him, and it’s only the clamour of the kids around her that keeps her face from going bright red.

She’s gotta play it cool here. Roll with the ridiculousness, always the best way to deal with Eddie, to keep him grinning at her like that, his whole face lit up like sunshine.

“Well…” she says, pretending to think it over, like she wouldn’t marry him in a heartbeat if he asked for real. That would be a bit much, given they’ve only known each other for a year and some change. “I suppose… although I’m not seeing a ring.”

Eddie grins like she’s fallen into some trap, and immediately slides the ring off his right hand- her favourite one with the big round stone in the middle that she likes to play with sometimes when they’re smoking together- and holds it up to her, a challenge in his eyes. Well. Only way out is through. She holds out her hand for him, the left one, and he slides the ring gently onto her ring finger. It fits perfectly.

“There you go,” he says, softly. His eyes are so warm, like pools of melted chocolate, and Stevie feels like she might drown in them. Her whole world has narrowed to the man on his knees before her- she’s distantly aware of the kids around them losing their minds (she’s pretty sure Mike is gagging, but that’s so far from her mind right now it might as well be happening on a different planet).

Eddie smiles up at her. “There’s my wife.”

“Your wife,” she whispers, unbearably fond. Stevie wants to hear him call her that for the rest of her life.

This really isn’t helping with her crush.

Sound filters in slowly, the world around them coming back in with the hushed whispers of the kids. Honestly, they’re quieter than she thought they’d be after this display, although the way Mike is rubbing his ribs suggests that this peace was hard won. They round the kids up pretty easily after that, with surprisingly little complaining as Stevie harangues them into cleaning up their shit. Eddie helps, occasionally glancing up at Stevie and looking quickly away with a fierce blush.

Later, after Stevie’s dropped off most of the kids and it’s only her and Will left in the car, riding home in silence as Stevie fiddles with the ring still on her finger, she tries not to read too much into everything that just happened. Will isn’t helping.

“So,” he says, in that sly, quiet way of his. “How long have you and Eddie been together?”

Stevie splutters. “That’s not- we’re not together. That was just- you know how Eddie is, he’s… theatrical.”

Will hums noncommittally. “He is. I don’t think that’s what that was, though. You like him, right?”

If this was any of the kids other than Will, Stevie thinks she’d deny it. God knows Dustin couldn’t be trusted with that information. But Will, quiet, sensitive Will- she thinks he’d get it.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I really do. But it’s not- he doesn’t like me like that.”

She pulls up to the Byers’ house and parks the car in the drive. They both sit for a moment, basking in the silence. After a moment, Will suddenly leans over the gearshift, wrapping Stevie up in a weird, slightly uncomfortable hug. It feels nice.

“For what it’s worth,” he says as he pulls back and opens his door, “he looked really happy when he called you his wife. Even Eddie’s not that good of an actor.”

With that, he gently closes the car door behind him. Stevie watches as he runs up to his front door, and waves when Joyce comes out to greet him.

She drives most of the way home on autopilot, fiddling with the ring on her finger and thinking of Eddie’s face as he’d placed it on her hand. His gentle smile, his warm, chocolate eyes, full of something like love. His fingers had been rough with callouses as they’d brushed against hers, but still soft in a way that had nothing to do with his skin.

Maybe, she thinks, as she enters her quiet mausoleum of a house. Just maybe.

She goes to sleep that night, alone in her bed, with her last sight before unconsciousness being that of a gleaming ring on her left finger, and dreams of a husband who loves her.

[multi-fandom-simp]

Forever and always.. or maybe never. Part 2

[Part 1] [Alternate Ending]

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Hanahakis Disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: You're dead, and now Aemond must suffer the consequences of loving someone he can never have. How long until he can no longer handle it?

❗️TW❗️: Harsh language, mentions of blood and throwing up, character death, mentions of sexual situations, mentions of infidelity, slight violence, arguments, mentions of childbirth

(A/N: Part 2 is here! It took me a minute to put this together because I had so many ideas on how to do it, so I hope it is to your liking. I would love to hear thoughts, opinions, and ideas on it as well, I'm always open for criticism/suggestion! My asks/inbox are always open as well, I love nothing more than to talk about my fics, or just to you guys in general! I'm always up for having more mutuals on here! Also, if you are interested in the alternate ending for part 1, I posted a poll on what you would like to read in it, so feel free to vote. Anyways, enjoy!)

Word Count: 2,329

Taglist:  @libdarkheart @bibli0thecary @earthangels-things @iiamthehybrid @bellameshipper @introverbatim (I believe that is everyone who asked to be tagged?? I apologize if I missed anyone)

It was hours before anyone was allowed to take your body. Aemond had sat there, clutching you as you turned cold and stiff, staring off into the distance as the young boy inside his head wailed endlessly. It had been Helaena who convinced Aemond to let you go, and Daeron who supported him while he carried you to the maesters. Alicent was the first to cry out as you were pronounced officially dead, a piece of the queen's heart seeping through her lips as she wept against your hand. The small smart-mouthed girl that arrived nearly a decade and a half ago now lay unspeaking before her very eyes. 

“Tell me you were there” Alicent croaked out. 

“ Mother?” Daeron was the only one to question the queen. Helaena knew the question was not for her and Aemond still stood unmoving. 

“ Tell me you were by her side, Aemond! That she did not die alone!” Alicent stared directly at Aemond now, even if he did not look back. 

“ You think so low of me, that I would let her die unheld?” Aemond whispered.

“ I did not think you would cause her such heartbreak and yet here we are!” Alicent cried out. The fire in her eyes might even make you believe she was a Targaryen in more than just marriage. 

“ I did not know” Aemond argued softly. 

“ Then you will not know the time of her rest as well” All air sucked itself from the room and Aemond’s cardinal-rimmed eyes shot to his mother. 

“ You can not keep me from it” Where an authoritative edge was expected, vulnerability came instead. 

“ I am your mother and the queen dowager, I will do as I please” Alicent spoke harshly, “ I will take Aemys to the ceremony. I expect you to get rid of that bastard wet nurse in the meantime.” 

“ Mother-”

“ I will hear no more, Aemond! If I see you there, you will be thrown in a cell until it’s over” Alicent warned one last time while brushing hair from your face. She bent down to place a motherly kiss on your crown before turning away swiftly. Shortly after her departure, Daeron said his peace as well, followed by Helaena. Finally, Aemond stood alone with you once more. It didn’t take long for his legs to weaken and buckle, taking him down to his knees. The memory of the last time he had been on his knees for you tore a sob from his throat. 

“What are you doing?” You giggled in astonishment as Aemond removed his tunic and knelt at your feet. His hands dipped in the warm lilac water that your swollen feet soaked in. 

“ I’m going to massage the knots from your feet” Aemond explained, watching as your face contorted in bliss when his fingers dug into the right spot. 

“ That is what the maids are for, my love.” You proclaimed before laughing again, ”Most husbands would scoff at the thought of massaging their lady wife.”

“ I am not most husbands, am I?” Aemond countered, smirking up at you. He took one of his hands from the water to caress your swollen stomach. Though he had soaked your night shift with water, you could care less.

“ I suppose not” You sighed contently, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“ Avy jorrāelan, Ñuha prūmia. Besides, it is the least I can do when I am the reason why you ache in the first place” Aemond continued to soothe the bump, hoping to feel movement. Kicks were his favorite, they usually occurred whenever you laughed. As if on cue, a flutter of movement blossomed underneath his touch as you chuckled at his statement. 

“ If I recall correctly, I was a part of that same reason” You took a towel from beside you as spoke and let it flutter to the floor. Carefully, and with assistance, you removed your feet from the water onto the dry cotton. 

“ Mhm, that is true, you even had me on my back at one point” Aemond snorted.

“ As I remember, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit” You teased. 

“ Did I? Perhaps you’ll have to remind me” Aemond surged at you before you could even comprehend what was happening. His lips moved deeply against yours as he shifted you to lay back. 

“ Aem!” You gasped in delight, holding onto his shoulders.

“ Yes, Ñuha prūmia?” He cooed mischievously, gleaming down at you like the Cheshire cat.

“ This is nowhere near the position we were talking of, ñuha zaldrīzes!” Dragon. Your dragon, always. Aemond nipped at your neck upon hearing the endearment that always caused his heart to stutter. 

“ Mhm, ‘tis not, but I quite like this position” He murmured hotly against your neck. 

“ You won’t like it when it’s the position I give birth in” You whispered. It’s not that you were scared of your first child’s birth or of death itself, you just worried about never meeting your child if you did perish. 

“ Stop that” Aemond scolded. 

“ Stop what, I’m-”

“ Overthinking. I can feel it” He rose slightly to press his forehead to yours, "Both of you will make it out just fine, though I imagine the babe might still scream well afterward” 

Aemond was right, Aemys did cry well into the night after his birth until you were awake and well to hold him that is. It’s ironic, Aemond thinks, how similar that was to now. You were unconscious after a taxing birth, now you lay unconscious on a pyre. Aemys screamed for you then, and he screams for you now, despite Aemond being there both times. 

“ Muña! Muñaaaaa!” Aemond silently braided a piece of the thrashing toddler's hair as he kicked and screamed. Even at three years of age, he was clever enough to know something was wrong. 

“ Muñaaa-”

“ Aemys, please..” Aemond sighed tiredly, turning the child to face him. 

“ Jaelagon. Muña.” Want. Mother. By the seven Aemond wanted you too, but he couldn’t have you. The realization caused a tightness in his chest, a breathless one, but he refused to cough. 

“ I know, byka zaldrīzes, I’m sorry.” Little Dragon. Aemys truly was still little and it broke Aemond’s heart that you would never get to see him grow big and strong. He brought the distressed toddler to his chest and held him tight, tears soaking onto the small amethyst tunic he had been wrangled into. 

“ Aemond” Alicent called out from the doorway, poised in an onyx dress with a belt of deep purple jewels to match her grandson and a hand full of lilacs. Your faithful hyena, Lark appeared as well, striding into the room slowly. 

“ Be good for your grandmother” Aemond spoke quietly but firmly, before standing to full height. He watched as Aemys toddled over to Alicent, giggling as Lark lapped the tears off his cherubic cheeks. 

“ Muña?” Aemys whispered, your eyes shining up at Alicent through his.

“Mama?” the young girl croaked, peering up at a young Alicent Hightower.

“ Your mother isn’t here-” Her voice faltered at the heartbreak in your innocent eyes, “but surely we can see her later, alright? Now, what else would you like, little one?” 

“Flowers?” Alicent chuckled, before taking your small hand in hers. 

“ I suppose I can show you the lilacs..they’re my favorite” The queen whispered down to you, smiling when your face lit up. You may not have been hers, and despite Viserys being the one to invite you, it was the queen who took you under her wing. 

“Mother.” Alicent’s head snapped up to look at Aemond, breaking from her memories. She blinked rapidly to dispel the water weight from her eyes. 

“ Your mother isn’t here, but we’ll see her…someday” Alicent reassured, taking Aemys little hand in her own. Aemond watched as they went before leaving the room himself. He trudged up to a small room at the top of the tallest viewpoint in the castle. Dreamfyre was circling the skies, waiting for Helaena to say Dracarys. 

“ Aemond!” The sound of his name on your tongue lapped at his ear and your footsteps echoed past him. Dreamfyre now flew towards the grassy knoll. 

“You’re handsome to me” The ghost of your fingers prickled goosebumps near his scar. Dreamfyre landed upon the ground. 

“Avy jorrāelan”

 “Avy jorrāelan.” Your proclamation of love faded away with a hot wind as Aemond’s rang through the air. Dreamfyre hurled fire as Aemond hurled petals. 

Whereas your suffering lasted two months, Aemond’s lasted a year. He never tried to conceal, nor cure it. Aemond once said he would die without you and he meant it. Over the course of his downfall, several had tried to convince him to remarry.

“She’s gone, Aemond-”

“ Do not speak my name. I am a prince, refer to me as such.” Aemond snapped coldly at Alys, who stood in front of him and his family in the hall. Unfortunately with a slightly swollen belly accompanying her. The very sight of it made Alicent and even Helaena nauseous. You had only been gone a few months.

“ Apologies, my prince-” 

“ I did not say your prince, I am nothing of yours.” Aemond corrected once more. 

“ You were once” Alys spoke, gazing wickedly at the man before her. 

“ You tricked me, bewitched me” Aemond sneered.

“ I merely used your lady wife’s blood to make you think I was her. You, Aemond Targaryen are the one who chose to believe it. You began to love m-” 

“ I loved her, not you! It will always be her-” Aemond turned swiftly as he felt the familiar dryness creep up his throat and out onto his hand, bringing rivers of scarlet in its wake. 

“ I was going to offer myself up to you for marriage, but it seems that your wife still calls to you even from the ground.” Alys tuts, “Such a pity that I couldn’t have either of you in the end.” 

Pity. It was a thing that Aemond found himself receiving often. Lords would offer their pity on losing such a gorgeous young wife. Ladies of the court pitied him for losing the only woman who could ever love a monster like him. Even Aegon pitied him, but not for the right reasons. 

“It’s a pity that you lost your wife brother, because now I have to find you another one through alliance. Which mother loathes me for because she believes it’s too soon” Aegon grumbled the last part into his chalice as to avoid his mother's glare. 

“ I will not take another wife” Aemond didn’t bother to eat nor look at anyone, he was only sitting at the table for duty’s sake anyway. In his head, he was in a whole other world where you were alive and happy. 

“ You will remarry, to a Baratheon girl. You will remarry, forget about your old wife, which will get rid of those damned petals you leave everywhere, and then sire more children” Aegon chuckled darkly. 

“ No.” Aemond refuted. 

“ Yes-”

“No! I will not take another wife as long as I lo-” Aemond wasn’t able to say the word much these days without it being an instant reaction. The blonde looked down at his hands and saw not only flowers but thorns. He was nearing his end. 

Aemond’s end wouldn’t come for many more months. Leaving him time to try and end his life quicker. Many morrows would pass and for each one Aemond sat on his knees in front of Vhagar, but nothing ever came of it. Either the dragon refused to kill another rider, or she agreed with Alicent on the fact that Aemond deserved to suffer as you did. Aemond also lived to see Aemys reach another birthday. He spent as much time with the boy as he could in between his duties. It was the only time he could ever get a glimpse of you outside of his mind. The four-year-old’s eyes had become windows to your soul. Not only did Aemys have your eyes, but he had begun to display your mannerisms as well. Mimicking the way you used to carry yourself, the way you talked, and ate as well. The only thing he held of Aemond was hair and emotional range. Though the latter did not develop until after your death. 

“ Aemys, father must go now.” Aemond stood in full armor at the child’s bedchamber door. 

“ Okay.” Aemys spoke with a soft smile before figuring out how to say his next words, “Tell Muña I say hi”

Aemond’s expression fell before it was quickly replaced. He memorized the look of his son once more before taking off down the hall towards Vhagar. Aemys’s words repeated through his head as he flew toward God's Eye. Blood trailed from the corner of his lips and nose, but he ignored and braved on. He would die a dragon rider's death, a brave death, so that he may meet you again in the afterlife. The universe, however, like before, had crueler plans. Air began to solidify into silk beneath the tissue of Aemond’s lungs. His bronchioles turned to thorns, and trachea to roots, all while his body remained the soil. 

“ I-I lov-” For the first time since your death, Aemond sobbed. He needed to say it, needed to say he loved you before he died. The sky, the clouds, the stars, the universe, all of it needed to know how he truly loved you. Aemond could not see caraxes flying towards him with a rider confused on why his nephew was kneeled over before the battle had even begun. Daemon would not attack an injured rider, it would bring him no pride or glory. Instead, he watched as Aemond slid sideways from Vhagar and plummeted towards the river. 

“ Avy jorrāelan” “ Avy jorrāelan” This time it was your proclamation of love that engulfed Aemond’s just as the river of sea and blood consumed him. Aemond Targaryen could not feel the crisp coldness of the water, only the soft warmth of your hands pulling him in.

[cakerybakery]

I’d like to write a one shot about Adam being reborn on Earth and becoming a priest. I had a story idea a few months about about a priest that agrees to meetings each week with the devil to save his congregation, that would be a fun premise for getting Adam and Lucifer to fuck. Especially if combined with that temptation war AU I was thinking about the other day.

It’s Lucifer and Lilith’s turn to pick a vice vs virtue and as they lost Lust to Chasity a few rounds ago so they’re going to try it again. Adam and Eve have chosen to born into highly religious families with the goals of becoming members of the cloth once they’re adults again to resist the temptation of lust.

Lucifer and Lilith wait until Adam and Eve have grown up again. Part of the rules. Just as Adam and Eve will only be born with the vague feeling that they’re doing something important, Lucifer and Lilith cannot tempt them as children. Should Adam or Eve die or sin before they’re considered adults with all the rights and responsibilities required to be an adult then it would be a tie for the round and their sins would not count as Lilith and Lucifer aren’t tempting them.

Eve grows up to become a nun. She chose well and resists the temptations of hell her whole life. Much to the frustration of Lilith.

Adam grows up to become a priest but when members of his congregation sell their souls to the devil for things such as wealth, power, or talent and the devil comes a calling Adam is desperate to protect his people.

“Then let’s make a deal. So long as you meet with me I’ll leave your sinners alone. Perhaps one day you’ll convince me to let their souls go. Although I’d rather add a priest to the notches on my bedpost.”

Adam takes a step back from the devil’s out stretched hand. He couldn’t believe people in his congregation had made deals for their souls to this man, nor could he believe he was taller than the devil by a few inches. He always seemed bigger in the stories.

Were a few sinners worth risking his soul? His place in heaven? The devil’s deal said nothing about his soul and he did not plan to have sex until marriage he could be confident that he couldn’t be tempted into the sin. The devil was hardly his type. While he was partial to blonds, but he also liked it when they came with tits. He wasn’t in any danger of finding this guy attractive.

“Deal.” Adam took Lucifer’s hand and they shook on it.

“I will come every Sunday night. From 7 pm until 7 am your time is mine. Play your cards right and you’ll be cumming to.” Lucifer winked and vanished.

Adam’s hand burned. He hoped his congregation was worth it.

Sunday came and he put extra emphasis on people needing to resist the devil and his temptation. Hoping at least to not lose more to the short bastard.

He waited back at his small apartment that evening, wondering how he was going to entertain the king of hell for twelve hours. Did he need to stay up all night? What was the devil even going to do? Should he put on a movie? Adam had been on a few dates before, but he’d never been as nervous about them as he was about this meeting.

A date he could navigate. He planned to be a priest most of his life. He always made that clear and that a date was simply a date and he had no plans to have sex before marriage. Some girls he just never clicked with and they didn’t date for long. One he thought he would marry but she left the church and him. She’s apparently happy with a family of her own on the other side of the country, according to Facebook anyways.

This was unusual to say the least. He prepared a sermon but if the devil couldn’t be swayed by god what chance did he have? What would they discuss? What could they discuss if the devil’s goal was to bed him? Would he have to spend twelve hours trying to push the devil’s hands off him? Telling him no and trying to squirm away?

Adam caught sight of himself in the mirror, his face was turning pink, he hadn’t realized he was biting his own lip. That wasn’t good. Was there a reason things never clicked with women?

His clock began to chime and there was a knock on the door, tearing him from his thoughts.

Opening the door, Adam didn’t know what to expect. Lucifer wore a casual suit for their meeting, the top few buttons undone, hatless, he pressed a small bouquet of flowers into Adam’s hands and carried a bottle of wine.

Adam could feel his face burning red. This was a date. He was on a date with the devil in his apartment.

“Going to invite me in, darling?” Lucifer winked up at him and Adam stumbled back tongue-tied.

“Co-come in.” What had he done? This was bad. This was a bad time to be figuring out that maybe he was more into men than he thought.

He shook his head, no. He wasn’t into guys. He wasn’t interested in men last week. This had to be some trick of the devil. A trick of the rather handsome devil taking off his suit jacket and rolling his shirt sleeves up and talking to him about glasses? He didn’t wear glasses. Why did the devil want to know where his glasses were?

Lucifer held up the bottle looking as confused as Adam was feeling and it clicked.

“I don’t have wine glasses! I-I don’t drink, much.” He had the occasionally beer but never really acquired a taste for it and it was more to be polite than anything.

He also didn’t have a vase. No one had ever given him flowers before and he never bought any for himself. Where should he put this? What did he do?

Almost like he was taking pity on him, Lucifer flashed him a soft smile that made Adam’s heart race, and brushed past Adam to go into the kitchen.

He opened and closed cupboards until he found the glasses and pulled a couple down.

“This will do.” Lucifer poured them some wine, “shall we have dinner? I’m a fantastic cook.”

Adam left the flowers propped up in the sink and filled it with the tap until he could find something else for the flowers to go in.

He hadn’t thought about dinner. For the past couple hours he had been fretting over what to say and skipped his own supper. Adam had been too busy to do much shopping either.

“How about take out?”

“It would give me more time to seduce you.” Lucifer’s hand groped Adam’s ass and Adam jumped.

“You know what,” Adam backed out of the kitchen, “you should cook.”

Lucifer just smiled, “anything you say, dear.”

Adam retreated to the living room while the devil cooked in his kitchen. His classes never prepared him for this. It was always more theoretical and metaphorical. The devil tempting you with the easy path, not by coming to your apartment with flowers and wine, not by cooking you dinner and groping your ass.

He talked to Adam. Asked him questions about his life. Spoke to Adam as though he had known him all his life. Like this wasn’t the first time the devil tried to seduced him.

Adam knew he didn’t have ribs in the fridge but there they were on a plate. He didn’t have apples either, but there was a pie. Adam wasn’t sure he had most of the ingredients used in the meal and wondered if he would be damned if he ate it.

“It’s fine. I conjured what I needed.” Lucifer poured himself another glass, “you’re not Persephone and damned to the under world if you eat my cooking.”

Still, Adam picked at the food, the man telling him this was the prince of lies. He could easily be lying.

“If it was easy cooking you a meal then I wouldn’t need twelve hours.”

Adam supposed that was true. But the truth could be as effective as a lie if told properly. His stomach growled and he took a bite.

Fuck. It was delicious. Adam dug in vaguely aware that Lucifer was watching him.

“You humans have a saying. ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ And I get the feeling of if I want into your bed it’ll have to be through your heart. So I’m glad you’re enjoying my cooking so much.”

Adam felt a foot run up and down his leg and quickly pushed himself back away from the table. He finished his supper awkwardly far from the table and his plate as quickly as he could. Before slamming back his glass of wine.

“How about we watch a movie?” Without waiting for an answer Adam left the table and dishes. Something he wasn’t prone to doing on his own. He switched on the tv and clicked through some menus and screens to turn on the first movie he found. Adam sat ridged in an armchair. Assuming Lucifer would be unable to touch him if the seat was for one.

He was wrong.

Lucifer sat in his lap. “All you have to do is tell me no.” He sunk his fingers into Adam’s hair and cozied up close.

Adam’s tongue wouldn’t work. He couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no. “I’m waiting until marriage!”

Lucifer kissed his neck as Adam clung to the arm rests like a lifeboat in the sea.

Lucifer’s hands wandered and Adam could only whimper. When they reached Adam’s belt he found his voice. “Marry me!”

Pausing his hands, Lucifer pulled away from Adam’s neck, “what?”

“Marry me. You want to fuck a priest? Then marry me. You can fuck me as much as you want then. But you have to let my congregation go.”

“That! I! Uhh!”

Adam grabbed Lucifer by the waist and kissed him for all he was worth. Lucifer twisted his hands into Adam’s sweater and returned the kiss, “okay.” Was all he could say when Adam pulled away.

Lucifer’s face was flushed and eyes half closed, Adam saw his chance. He continued his assault on the devil’s lips and texted with one hand to John, a fellow priest, to bring his wife and to come over quick.

It didn’t need to be legal. Not in the eyes of the government. It wasn’t like the fucking devil could sign paperwork. But they could make it official in the eyes of the lord.

John held Adam’s spare key and let his wife and himself into Adam’s apartment.

The sight was more horrific than either had imagined. They had thought perhaps Adam had hurt himself and didn’t want to go to the hospital. Mary was a nurse after all. They expected blood and stitches. Not to see a demon pinned to the floor by Adam. Their necks red with hickies, disheveled, and leftover dinner still warm on the table.

“What the fuck, Adam?”

“Marry us. Quickly.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later. I have the-the paper thingy in my desk with,” Adam groaned as the devil rubbed them together. “Words and shit! Just do it!”

John did as he was told. Speeding through to the vows.

“Names! What’s his name?”

“Lucifer Morningstar.” The devil laughed.

John fumbled with the papers. Not a demon but the very king of hell himself.

He finished the vows they said their I do’s and Adam screamed at him to get out.

Mary prayed in the car as they drove home. He didn’t know what unholy deed he had just been apart of but he couldn’t escape the feeling that he had just helped someone or something greater than himself. He couldn’t figure out if it was for the side of good or evil.

The deed was done, Adam let Lucifer go and let himself be ravaged.

His favourite sweater was torn beyond repair in Lucifer’s quest for more flesh to assault with his hands and mouth. His pants would never recover. He let himself be carried to his bed and pressed into it.

Adam briefly realized this was going to be his first time and that the devil was unlikely to let him top. When he pictured this moment, his wedding night, this was nothing like he imagined. At the very least he assumed he would be the one doing the fucking.

Those thoughts vanished as Lucifer’s mouth engulfed his dick whole.

Very suddenly he didn’t care. Not if Lucifer kept doing that thing with his tongue. He could feel himself being worked open and wondered very briefly what his husband was using, then Lucifer did that thing with his tongue and the thought was gone.

Adam didn’t know, Adam didn’t care, Adam just wanted more, Adam was rewarded with it.

He writhed and screamed out, he was sure the neighbours would call the police.

It was only after, as they lay gasping in his bedsheets, that it occurred to Adam what he had done.

“You win.” Lucifer pried himself up from the bed. “This round is yours, Adam.”

Memories flooded back. Eden, heaven, hell, the war they were waging that rested on the shoulder’s of he and Eve.

“I didn’t think flowers and dinner would work that fast.”

“You prick! You fucking bastard! You tricked me!” Adam hit Lucifer with a pillow.

“Well, yeah. That’s my lot in this war.” He let Adam hit him, knowing that Adam was embarrassed. It wasn’t like a pillow could actually harm him and they both knew it.

Adam exhausted himself. He was a bit sore and emotionally drained. “What do you mean I won?”

“This round was lust. I was trying to get you to give into having pre-marital sex. I have to admit, I was so flabbergasted by you actually calling over someone who could marry us that I went with it.”

“Aren’t you already married? Doesn’t that mean we’re not married? Shouldn’t you have won that round?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Kinda. Not on Earth though. And you didn’t know about my marriage to Lilith. But you remember and so long as Eve doesn’t give in before she dies, then this round goes to heaven.”

“It’s weird. To remember while I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, usually I get your whole life to tempt you. If you marry then I tempt you with cheating. Or whatever. This was a loophole I didn’t see coming.”

Adam wasn’t sure what to do now. He should probably explain things to John. But how much? What did this mean for Lucifer and him? Apparently what they did was good enough for God to declare Adam the victor. So he was, in this life and in the eyes of God, married to Lucifer. Oh this life’s father would be pissed if he knew.

He started laughing as ideas came to him. He should go back home to his parent’s place, show up with his husband, the fucking devil. That would be hilarious.

What would his congregation think? Well, seeing as a few of them made deals with the devil he could just leave out the wage between heaven and hell and let them all know their slate had been wiped clean and it was thanks to him bending over.

Fuck it. Adam flopped down onto the bed. He would worry about it later.

Lucifer rolled closer, “sooo, you want to cuddle?”

Adam shoved him off the bed.

“That wasn’t a no!”

—-

For fuck’s sake! I wasn’t trying to write a story! Who keeps letting me have ideas?

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Jan 19th

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1. Hello, I have lost a fic! It was an arranged-marriage au where WWX marries into the Lan sect. During the wedding all the Lans refuse to look towards WWX which hurts him deeply. Later on LWJ explains it is Lan tradition for no one to look upon the bride until the husband has removed her veil. This was just one of many cultural differences between the Lan and Jiang that the fic explored. Overall I think the fic was kind of somber and angsty? Probably had a happy ending though. Any ideas?

FOUND? Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? In Love and War by Cataclysmic_Calamity (E, 68k, wangxian, A/B/O, Canon Divergence, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Arranged Marriage, Kind of a slow burn, enemies to lovers ish, rampant sexual tension, WWX is a Menace to society and LWJ is doing his best, Miscommunication, past emotional abuse, Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub, Anal Sex)

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2. Hello, I need help finding a fic. I'm pretty sure I found this fic through your blog.

It's from Lan Wangji's perspective and takes place during the early sunshot campaign before Wei Wuxian's return. Wen outposts are attacked by some unknown entity and Lan Wangji goes to investigate. The culprit is a human shaped being covered in resentful energy. After a few confrontations Lan Wangji discovers that the being is an unconscious Wei Wuxian and finds a way to free him from the resentful energy. @bluekittenfire

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3. (First part added to an itmf) I cannot remember what it is called but there was one fic where WWX loses his foot/leg and the Wen build him a wooden prosthetic that I really enjoyed and am looking for more fics like this. Where characters are dealt a difficult hand but they work through it and yeah, any recs would be much appreciated thank you!

FOUND? we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)

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4. Hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but maybe you can help me? I’m looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is fighting at what I remember to be Qiongqi Path. I think Jiang Cheng makes a smart remark (something like “Are you just gonna play your flute or you going to help us?!”) and Wei Wuxian stops playing his dizi long enough to give JC the finger… only for them to realise what it means that he’s stopped playing and a flute can still be heard. Not long after LWJ pulls Su She out of the foliage with the other flute.

Vaguely I remember it being a fix it fic where less people die than in canon.

If you can help with this I would appreciate it since it’s haunted me for days now! And even if not I hope you have a pleasant day. ^^ @jestingknights

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5. hi!! i’m been looking for a fic for days. i read it forever ago but it’s during the cloud recess study arc and in it lan xichen realizes how awful the jiangs are treating wwx and tries to subtly convince him to leave tywng and stay in gusu bc he knows how much lwj likes him and he sees how talented wwx is and knows he would be a good asset for any sect to have. a specific scene i remember is that lxc would pretend to accidentally bump into wwx to talk to him. and they would go on walks and lwj saw it and got jealous. i think lxc was lowkey manipulative but in a way where he was doing it to make wwx care enough about himself to leave the jiangs. it was not jiang clan friendly at all. i kno this is so vague sorry about that. but it’s driving me crazy how i can’t find it when i know ive read it more then once. thanks for any help u can give

FOUND? If 5 isn't 🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting), it's very similar so here's hoping!

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6. Hello! I’m looking for a modern AU where WWX lives in and runs a theater, I believe LWJ is hosting his orchestra there for practice and for an event??? And it’s important that it’s successful to keep the theater open. I believe at some point, someone throws a rock or a brick through the front doors, and I believe the jiangs show up in the end and WWX confronts that. Im having such a hard time finding it or remembering more about it, and I’ve been looking for it for so long 🥲 @takemitchyleaps

FOUND? Talisman by Witch_Nova221 (M, 192k, WangXian, Modern AU, Eventual Romance, Theatre, Rock Band, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Spousal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Stalking, Minor Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

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7. Hi! I hope doing this right, can tou help me find a fic ? I remember that the sects start making alliances because they notice how the Wens are acting. The Jiangs and the Lans are going to ally through marriage, the choice is up to LXC, but because he is jealous of LZ, thinking he never had it difficult, when WY is offered to the Lans, LXC decides to marry him to make LZ suffer, knowing LZ and WY like each other. LXC is the one whose core is melted and LSZ is LXC and WY's biological son. @old-rose-peonies

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8. There's a fic I vaguely remember reading, and I don't know what it's called. There's a scene where Lan Zhan is trying to help Wei Ying eat again (residual starvation stuff), and there's an NSFW scene with honey where Lan Zhan is trying to help Wei Ying associate eating with Good Things. That's the extent of my memory. If you could please help me find it, I'd greatly appreciate it! Thank you! @amynchan

Oh oh! I know exactly which fic this is because it was written based on a post of mine! It's actually WWX helping LWJ and was written by the wonderful InTheGreySpaces (thank you again for writing this beautiful fic~) 😊 Though I could be wrong so please let me know if this isn't it 😅 - Mod C

FOUND! 🧡 Sustenance of the Soul OR Five Times Lan Wangji Refused to Eat and One Time Wei Wuxian Convinced Him To by InTheGreySpaces (E, 9k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Pining, Eating Disorders, LWJ Has an Eating Disorder, and WWX is going to help him get past it, Inedia, Inedia used in the wrong way, LWJ's 33 Lashes Punishment, referenced as the cause of his eating problems, Submissive LWJ, Sort of?)

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9. Hello! I'm looking for a specific fic that I'm afraid might've been deleted. It's a modern au set in the 90s in California (possibly). The Spotify playlist "LWJ DJs your life 1999" goes with it. What I remember is that LWJ is both a goth club DJ and a cello player, WWX drives a terrible car, and the gang is looking to buy the perfect huge house to collectively live in. It might've been part of a series, there's a Halloween party bit where LWJ dresses up at a classic style gothic vampire and curates an extensive party playlist. Thanks for the help! @aceaviatrix

FOUND? The Quiet Room by trickybonmot (M, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, 1990s, Goth LWJ, Cellist LWJ, College Student WWX, House Hunting, Dating, Clubbing, San Francisco, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Academic Disaster Aftermath, Getting Together, Repressed Teen Crushes to Strangers to Lovers, Homelessness, in the form of couch surfing, background NieLan)

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10. For the next fic finder: I'm looking for a longer fic where the wens find shelter at the nie sect. It was part of a way bigger plot and some wangxian shenanigans, but wen qing and nie mingjue end up sleeping together, mainly because wen qing is cold and is like "might as well". I do remember that nie mingjue was trans, also. Anyone have any idea what fic that was?

FOUND? 💖 Uninvited by WithBroomBefore (M, 13k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, sect leader jyl, sick fic, happy ending) specifically chapter 3

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11. Hi! I need help in looking for a fic where Nie Huaisang was the one who sacrificed his body and soul to summon Wei Wuxian back to life. Thank you @etutb

FOUND? Crowded by nirejseki (G, 1k, NHS & WWX, WangXian, WangXianSang, Canon Divergence, Different Body Offering Ritual, Atypical Relationship Dynamics, sentient sabers) this is a nhs sacrifice summon (gone sideways) fic

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12. Hello. I am looking for a fic where there was a finger trap? You know, the “thing that traps the victim's fingers (often the index fingers) in both ends of a small cylinder”? Anyway i cant remember if it was a tweetfic or a fic on ao3 but wangxian had their fingers in this 🥲🙏

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13. Hi, I don't normally lose fics but I lost this one: Post-Canon, Jiang Cheng basically goes round all the clans and tells them what was wrong with their defences during Sunshot and what they could do better. He also has some unkind words to say about Lotus Pier's organisation. It sounds like he's making enemies but he's really not. Any ideas, please? @solo----

FOUND? 🔒 The Cold Wind of Harsh Truth (or How We Nearly Lost the Sunshot Campaign): A Treatise by Icarus (T, 13k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Humor, Angst, JC digs and keeps digging, Zidian lore, Fun with talismans, JC-centric, Competence Kink, Strategy & Tactics, Cultivation Sect Politics, Arranged Marriage, Trauma, Logic, POV JC)

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14. Hi, I am looking for a fic set post-canon (I think). I remember Wei Wuxian maybe living in the jingshi, possibly teaching classes, but definitely going into Caiyi with Lan Wangji and during a festival Wangji wins a game and the prize is this ugly turtle statue that Wei Wuxian adores. They go on to prank Lan Qiren with the turtle statue. I loved this scene but I can’t remember what fic it came from, please help!

FOUND! I think 14for the fic finder is from the actual book. It sounds like the last extra chapter. / Not saying there isn't a fic involving it, but #14 sounds a lot like the Yunmeng extra in book five, as well. Ring toss, ugly turtle statue, and Wei Wuxian considering pranking Lan Qiren included. The only difference is the location. Your searcher may have mistaken it for fic, especially if they read translations online. / #14 is one of the extra chapters from the actual novel (Extra 7 in the official English translation)

I found a few similar fics with a turtle statue if you want to check them out ^^ - Mod C

The Turtle in the Lanshi by Brierilee (G, 1k, WangXian, Post Canon, POV LJY)

Jin Ling and the No Good Very Bad Terrible Year of Cloud Recesses Bullshit by cringewerewolf (T, 2k, WangXian, Juniors)

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15. hi!! looking for this funny fic based on a silly story. Lwj rejects wwx on a dating app accidently right in front of him, i think they're on an airport? they end up talking obvs and it's cute and funny @ilyweiwuxian

FOUND? Ticket to Ride by mistresscurvy (E, 18k, wangxian, Modern, Online Dating, Road Trips, Service Top, Phone Sex, Dick Pics, Wedding Banquet)

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16. Hey was hoping you guys may be able to help, I've been look for a fic I read awhile back idk if it got deleted or something but. It is a modern time wangxian fic with tattoo artist wei ying, his parents are alive too. But he ends up renting a boyfriend/ Lan wangji off a boyfriend renting site. They have misunderstandings but get through it, he even gives lan Zhan a lotus tattoo like his own and they get together officially in the end. @yilingpatriarchsimp

FOUND! Rent a Gege by wayward_wing (E, 12k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Getting Together, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Mention of wangxian with others, WWX’s parents are alive, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Riding, Skinny Dipping, eating ass, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex)

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17. I have lost a fic where Wei Wuxian is a catfish for sale and he helps jilted lovers get back at their exes. Su She hires him to target Lan Wangji but Wei Wuxian falls for him instead. Please help me find this fic!

FOUND! I'm pretty sure this one is we'll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixo (T, 38k, wangxian, modern, College AU, Catfish AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Crossdressing WWX, Rich heir LWJ gets catfished by pretty Weiying online that's it that's the fic, LWJ learns how to text with kaomojis, Gossipy aunties NHS and WWX: canon, sometimes LWJ gives you secondhand embarrassment, this fic is on crack, Pining LWJ, Fluff, Humor, lwj is a grade A+ SIMP, Identity Porn)

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18. lan xichen is driving after drinking at night and hits Jiang yanli and she dies. Plot twist ended up she committed suicide, but they didn’t know that before. The lans and jiangs had a fight and somehow lan wangji ended up getting married to Wei wuxian. Wwx is significantly older then lan zhan in this fic.

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19. Hello! I was wondering if I could get help looking for a fic. It’s a doctor AU where LZ and WY are both surgeons. It starts with WY being late to a presentation and showing up right in the middle of LZ’s presentation time. Then WY eventually ends up working on a research project or something like that with LZ? Wen Ning gets hurt at some point in it too and WY and LZ save him against LQR’s orders. I’ve been looking for this for forever and can’t seem to find it. Thank you so much!

FOUND? Anginal Equivalents by fakeplasticlily (E, 23k, wangxian, Modern, Medical Residents AU, Childhood Friends, Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, WangXian.mp3, Sexual Content, Podfic Available)

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20. Hi Peeps! Thank you so much for your dedication to this page, I'm a big fan! I'm looking for a specific fic: there's a cultural show being put on by the whole gang and Wei Ying is specifically doing a dance for it but he needs to have body paint and LZ graciously volunteers for it. He ends up writing characters out of an ancient poem that Huaisang tells him is LZ basically marking him for his own. It's not idiots in love, though that one was great as well. Thank you in advance! @nebuluscharlie

FOUND? Out of the Bin and Into Your Heart by Alaceron (T, 27k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fake/Pretend relationship, Oblivious WWX)

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[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Friends - Rafe Cameron

Words: 5.9k+ Type: Fluff Summary: Y/N meets Rafe's friends at a party. Warnings: Female!Reader. Secret Relationship. Lying to friends and family. No smut, but there are mentions of it - I will make up for the lack of it in the next part. Might need some more proofreading. Mentions of alcohol and its consumption, mentions of drugs overall, and coke in specific. Sneaking out. Anxiety. Getting drunk - acting clingy and childish.

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should read the other smuts <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

“See? You didn’t die.” Rafe whispers behind you.

You look up at the bedroom window you just climbed down from. Your bedroom window. You’re not sure how you let yourself be convinced so quickly. Rafe made it happen, of course. All he had to do was beg you, and he knows how you could never say no to him. He knows it because he’s the same as you. 

You smooth down your skirt as you look around. It’s so dark on this side of your house, none of your neighbors would ever see you. Rafe sure has never been noticed coming down from your window, and doing the climbing yourself is truly just a confirmation of how it works. No light from the street can reach the ‘in-between’ of the houses, and your parents do not have motion lights like at the front. All you have to do is be quiet, and you won’t wake them up.

“Where’s the car?” You ask him.

“Down the street.” He says before you finally look back at him.

Topper’s car, that is. You still can’t believe you accepted going to a party with Rafe. Deep down, you want to think about what could possibly go wrong, but… you know exactly what could go wrong.

Your uneasiness is written all over your face, and that is when Rafe grabs onto your hand and begins to pull you in the direction of the car. You walk through the warm night slowly with him. The two of you are silent and don’t say a word until you’re off your parents' property and begin to walk in front of your neighbor’s house.

You take a look over your shoulder, and some unsettling feeling lays over your heart. You’ve never done this before. You’ve never jumped out of your window to go to a party after just wishing goodnight to your parents. What if they go and check on you? What if they are doing it right now? They know you don’t fall asleep right as you lay down, and they probably need to ask you something. What if they knock for a long time? What if they think something happened to you and will open the door with some sort of master key? What will happen?

You look away from your house, already in the distance, and, right as you’re stealing a look from Rafe, he’s already looking down at you. You offer him a small smile and try to make him ignore whatever you must have written all over your face. You wrap your arms around his own and lay a kiss on his bicep.

The two of you walk through the street until reaching the very end of it, where a car is parked. Rafe grabs the keys from his pocket and unlocks the doors. You walk with him as he takes you to your door, and you offer him yet another smile when he opens it for you.

You get into the car seat, being careful with your skirt as you do so, and, when you sit down comfortably, you notice Rafe standing between you and the door.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, a little louder than a whisper now.

“Yeah.”

You nod with your answer and tilt your own lips into a grin. Rafe doesn’t seem to want to push you to say more, and, for some reason, your heart pleads for you to talk to him. Anything to keep you from overthinking. But you don't say anything.

Rafe closes your door and walks around the car to his seat. You fetch your phone and check notifications. Kristy had texted you just 5 minutes ago about some movie she was watching - the worst she’s ever seen, in her description. You offer conversation to make it seem like you’re home and bored, and she is quick to text back.

As Rafe is driving out of your street all the way to your destination, you feel like the uneasiness of sneaking out is easing. The more distance you get from them, the better you feel, but, again, you’re not sure if you’re ready for whatever party Rafe is taking you to.

What if the rumors are real? Rafe says that the parties he goes to are, most of the time, the small ones around the big party on the island. If the rumors are real, that means that there will be drugs. Fuck, where are you getting yourself into? And you know you can’t say these things to Rafe because you will sound like some stuck-up bitch for no reason. You were laughing with him when you said you would come to this party with him.

Rafe steals countless looks at you, here and there, and especially at every red light. You don’t look okay, and, even though he’d want to take you to the party, he also wouldn’t mind driving you back home.

You continuously look out of the window while talking to yourself in your head, as well as, continuously give yourself affirmations to go through the night.

All this time, you’ve always concluded that they aren’t your crowd. What are you doing to yourself?

Some anxiety burns deep at the center of your chest, and it burns with its cold flames. It is able to spread all throughout your body, making you feel heavy and making your breathing more difficult. It feels like some sort of small anxiety attack.

The car stops, and you take your eyes off the window to look ahead. The house is right in front of you. It’s still a Figure Eight house, but way smaller than the one from the last party you went to with your friends. Its white hood is lit up, especially on the porch, where some people stand by. There are some people with drinks in their hands, but, mostly, they're all smoking. Some other people are getting out of their cars too, and excitingly going inside the house. That could never be you. You’re as tight and straight as a freaking stick.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Rafe’s question makes you look at him quickly.

“What? No, no. Why?” You ask as you begin to slowly take out your seatbelt.

“You look like you’ve seen enough, and we haven’t even got in.” Rafe says. A small smile appears on his lips as if he's amused by his own words.

You feel a little curve on your own lips and look away from him to look at the porch of the house. The door is closed, but as you’re watching a group of girls getting to it, one of the guys by the door is reaching to open it for them - meaning that it is unlocked.

“No.” You tell Rafe, “I still want to go in, I just…”

You hesitate. You do not want to finish your sentence. God, what would he even think of you? You’re being all hesitant about a party. A normal party. How many times have you been to parties before?

“Come here.”

His voice cuts through your entire mental conflict and the silence in the car. You look back at Rafe and see him get some space in his seat by leaning closer to the door. You sigh, shakingly, and sit up. With a hand on the console of the car, you move slowly and calculatedly. You don’t want to add embarrassment to your list of uncomfortable emotions.

You move over the console of the truck and sit down beside Rafe, your legs folded just over his lap. You lean back against the console and notice how you're practically glued to your boyfriend as he stares at you. Rafe’s hand lays over one of your legs, and he comfortingly smooths his warm palm over it.

“What is it?” He asks you.

You take a deep breath before even considering talking. You swallow all over your fears and second thoughts for just a minute.

“I feel… overwhelmed, I think.” You whisper. It is only the two of you in the car, and still, you are scared to speak any louder.

“With what?” He asks you softly.

“I’ve never snuck out.” You start, expecting some sort of amusement on his face, but it never appears, “So, I’m freaking out about that.”

“Why?”

“Because my parents can always find out.”

Now, that makes a little amusement appear on Rafe’s face, but it was only because of your tone. You said it as if it had been the most obvious thing you’ve ever said, and Rafe had to find that funny. He continues to smooth his hand through your leg, and you sigh feeling a little defeated.

“And the rest?” He asks.

“What rest?”

“You said you felt overwhelmed.” He repeats, “So there has to be more than that, right?”

You hesitate, and your hesitation is the clearest thing of this entire conversation. Rafe can’t promise you that your parents won’t find out. He can lie - if it means that you won’t be as scared, because, sure, it would be unlikely, but not impossible. But he knows there's something else. Something worse, which is making you not talk to him.

Rafe’s vacant arm wraps around you, just over the console and around your back. The two of you are very close to one another, yet, it is not like the two of you aren’t like this even when you aren’t both sitting in the same car seat.

“I don’t know if I’ll like the party.” You keep it simple, looking down at your hands in your lap. “I’m not a big party person. So, I don’t know if I’ll like this… type… of party…” You let out a small breath, “That’s it.”

“What type of party?” Rafe asks, and your breathing stops for a few seconds.

“A-A small party.”

“A small party?” He parrots, eyebrows lifted and still with a small smile on his face. “This is just like any other party on the island. Just small. How is that… intimidating?”

You lift your eyes at him, and they melt after not even a second of looking at Rafe's. He knows you’ll have fun today, the hardest part will just be the beginning: getting to know everyone, or having the first drink. He’s fine with it, he’s more than fine. You, on the other hand, not so much.

“I don’t… hang out with people like you, Rafe.” You explain in a whisper. “They’re not my crowd. I’ve always been told that. So, I guess I just don’t want to…” You pause to choose the right words yet again, “Be disappointed.”

“You hang out with me just fine.” He tells you as a defense.

“You’re different.” You shake your head at him.

“How am I different?”

The answer is as clear as day to you, but you can assume that you know what Rafe is talking about. You could ask anyone, from Pogues to Kooks, about who is the worst influence on the entire island when it comes to a party, and everyone would say his name, even his own friends. 

The rumors that circle his name drip with both the words ‘coke’ and ‘fights’. You swear that at the party you’ve been with him before, you’ve seen him both high and bloody. And even when that night almost feels like a fever dream to you, you know what you saw. The rumors are true.

But he’s different. Different with you.

“You’re different.” You repeat, not offering any explanation. “You just are.”

Rafe stares at you for a little bit. His eyes search your face for something, but they don’t find anything.

“So you’re scared of the people?” He concludes.

“I guess.” You shrug, looking out of the window in front of you.

“And what else?”

“Nothing.”

“What else?” He asks you, making you send him a cute glare, “Drugs?”

Your facial expression gave him the only confirmation he needed.

“They’re there. I won’t lie to you.” He says calmly, “But you only take something if you want to… Do you?”

“No.” You answer.

“Then you won’t.” He assures you, “No one will give you anything or touch you in there. I promise.”

Your puppy eyes come back, and Rafe leans in closer to you. Your breathing mixes as you have your faces mere inches away. Rafe’s arm around you pulls you closer to him, and you continue to look into his eyes.

“I promise.” He whispers again, and you nod.

Rafe kisses you and one of your hands lifts to grab onto his shirt. The kiss is soft and calm, something that truly makes your heart feel a little better. When you pull away, the two of you still stay close when you decide to speak.

“And they won’t say anything about us?”

“They won’t care.” He tells you with a small shake of his head, “I promise. Again.” He tilts his head a little when he adds the last word, making your lips finally come back with a grin.

You peck his lips, and your hands fly to their usual place, on each of his cheeks. Rafe leans in closer to you, making you lean further back into the console and giggle against his mouth. The kiss, even though roughened by the man himself, is playful and still very much soft. When pulling away again, Rafe makes sure to peck your lips like you do each time.

“Anything else?” He asks, and you shake your head. “Are you sure?”

“Just a question.” You whisper onto his face, and he lifts his head to make you talk, “Are there only guys in your friend group?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to spend the entire night with only men.” You offer him a distasteful frown.

“I’m not enough?” He asks, and you chuckle.

“Are there girls or not?” You ask through your giggles, making Rafe smile at you too.

“Yeah, they’re Topper’s friends. They’re there almost all the time.” He tells you.

Before any of you can speak again, there’s a knock on the window in front of you. You don’t know how you didn’t scream because you had totally forgotten you were in a car in the first place. You can only see a bit outside, as the windows are slightly tinted and the truck is on the darkest part of the driveway.

Rafe rolls down the window, and Topper Thornton appears. His eyes land on you first, but they quickly go over to Rafe.

“You better not have fucked in there.” He says, “I had it cleaned this morning.”

“Better clean it a second time, then.” Rafe answers, “I left a spot. Tissues only do so much.”

The disgust in Topper’s face only lasts until he sees you smack Rafe’s chest, which could only mean that nothing has happened. Rafe smiles at you as you shake your head at him, and your eyes soon find Topper again.

“Topper, right?” You ask him with a cute smile.

“That’s me.” He says, “You should be whoever has Rafe on a leash.”

Rafe can only roll his eyes at his best friend’s words as you giggle at him wholeheartedly. You move on his lap and lean over to the window to offer your hand to Topper. You two shake hands, and you continue to smile at his previous words.

You have lifted from the seat and have your knees just by Rafe’s legs. It’s a very bad position to be in when you date someone like Rafe. You smack his hand away as soon as you feel it on your ass, and Topper is completely oblivious to it, while Rafe can only smile at you.

Rafe, as he expected, watches as you and Topper actually begin a pleasant conversation. Pleasant is a very debatable word since the two of you are talking about him, and how you have him completely wrapped around your finger. It’s true, but Rafe isn’t going to let you brag about it, so he makes sure to pinch the back of your thigh every time.

After you smack him a second and third time, Rafe looks at Topper as he keeps on talking. Why the two of you haven’t jumped out of the car, he has no idea, but he's more than comfortable right now. The view isn’t bad either.

He smooths down your skirt, which you do not smack him for. You are very much on all fours peeking out of the window, your skirt has definitely moved around.

“Did you talk to Patty, today?” Topper asks Rafe.

“When do I ever talk to her?” He answers, leaning his head on the door, looking at him.

“Who’s Patty?” You ask, curious.

“Patricia.” Topper explains. “She usually goes to parties with all of us, but she might be too hungover from yesterday still.”

“You’d like her.” Rafe tells you.

“Oh yeah,” Topper agrees, “She’s seriously missing a few screws, but she’s fun.”

You laugh at the description and shake your head. That’s surely an exaggeration.

(...)

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t an exaggeration.

Patty is definitely a character. You’re not sure if when you first saw her, you already caught her either drunk or high, but the truth is that she hugged you tighter than anyone before. She complimented (very enthusiastically) you for your hair, makeup, clothes, and even shoes. She kept on saying that you are adorable. And she was shocked to know that you came in with Rafe and, especially, your connection to Rafe.

You laughed and smiled your way through Patricia finding it out and teasing your boyfriend for having settled after, supposedly, saying countless times that he would never settle for anyone.

At some point, she was able to eventually disconnect you from Rafe’s side and pull you through the party with your arms laced together. You were a bit scared to leave him since you were not exactly used to Patty just yet, but Rafe did seem to trust her enough to take you away from him, so, you were left to trust her too.

Patty introduced you to her other friends, not just the guys. And, spectacularly, she’s hyperactive enough to make you forget all about your nerves and anxieties for just a few minutes. She was the one who pulled you into the kitchen and got you a drink. Everything eased up much more after the first cup.

At some point, you caught yourself not looking around anymore. Alcohol surely helped, but you stopped feeling scared of who could see you at this party and, overall, who surrounded you. You were deep in conversation with Patty and her friends and swear that you felt fine. You felt normal.

The girls, friends with Patty, were so nice to you. So nice, it actually made you feel bad for expecting such bad things from them. You were expecting girls who would hate you at first glance and judge you for every action. You got the exact opposite. They're easy to talk to and have fun with.

You've eventually separated from them at some point, wanting to go and see Rafe once again. You had found him by the table at the beginning, just like at the start of the party. Topper was the first one to see you, and he offered you a grin before going back to his conversation.

You sat with Rafe and were brought into a conversation too. Rafe's hand laying on your lap and moving back and forth to warm your cold legs. He made sure that you were okay countless times, multiple in whispers. To which you answered a simple 'yes' each time.

Patty came back at one point too. She gave you another drink and failed to mention to you how much stronger it was. You took small sips, not daring to fall victim to the burning of your throat that came from the straight alcohol on your cup.

When you got separated again and went back inside the warm house, time went by faster and the alcohol felt smoother.

At about 2am, you can admit that you have never been to a party where the time passed by so quickly.

Everyone seems to have gone inside at some point. You all talked and drank and most definitely laughed. Your worries and overthinking have never been so lost in the back of your mind until now.

You definitely have met so many people that, whenever the night is over, you know you won’t remember any names other than some of the girls and probably Topper. 

The girls are just a little bit drunker than you are, but everyone is still walking upright, which is surprising. Yes, both you and Patty have tripped on air a bit too many times throughout the night, but you haven’t fallen yet.

With the girls, you’ve talked, jumped, danced, and done a lot of things that you swore you weren’t capable of doing when sober. You had to talk Patty out of doing cheerleading moves - she’s not a cheerleader - and she has talked the other girls out of getting into the second-floor bathroom through the window more than once.

Your phone has vibrated a few times in your hand, and, from what you’ve seen, it’s just Kristy sending you her usual ‘funny posts’ in the middle of the night. Even drunk-you made the smart choice of not opening them so she doesn’t know you’re awake. You’re not sure if you can type, therefore, you cannot let her start a conversation.

You walk your way through the absurdly full living room while trying not to cringe at how all sweaty everyone is and how they're nearly grinding onto you as you walk past. Patty and some of the girls are walking right behind you, hand in hand so no one gets lost or left behind. After some time, you can finally see Rafe in the sea of people in the distance, and that only makes you walk faster.

As you get to his side, he’s standing with his friends, you get their attention too as you seemingly appeared out of nowhere. You offer them a grin and look over at Patty to see if you didn’t completely abandon her while you leaned your head on your boyfriend. Your new friends are now circling a busy Topper. You smile at the way he’s trying to talk to some girl, and they continuously sing and jump around him.

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes at the girls and still continues his conversation, trying to act as unbothered as one could. When you turn to face Rafe yet again, he’s not talking anymore, just listening, and that is when you lean closer to him. You pull your phone out while hugging his arm close to your body and stare at the notifications in silence. Your drunken eyes are trying to figure out if you have any calls or important texts, but you get highly distracted by the hour changing - 3AM.

Rafe’s arm moves against you and, when you look up, you see the guys walking away, leaving you alone in the busy room with your boyfriend. Rafe, with a slight movement of his arm, makes you move, and you come to stand in front of him. Before saying or doing anything, you put your phone inside his pocket - where it has been for most of the night since your skirt is not blessed to that degree.

“You’re having fun?” Rafe leans down to talk to you.

You look up and offer him a nod and a smile in response. Your hands come to his sides, and your arms wrap around him slightly. You put your head back, and Rafe pecks your lips. It’s so quick, you don’t fail to feel a little disappointed. Rafe chuckles at the way you don’t hide any of your emotions and bring his lips back to yours.

You hum against his lips and bring one of your hands away from his torso to his face. The kiss evolves into very much making out, leaving your mind nothing more than a foggy mess.

It takes you a good second to understand what you’re doing, kissing Rafe in public. There have to be at least 20 people around you who can see it, and you have no idea how many there must be in total. All of them can see you kissing him.

You bring your body closer to him as much as you can, and, as you predicted, Rafe’s hand comes to your waist. You try to roughen up the kiss yourself, kissing Rafe harder than you usually do, but it only makes him squeeze your side, and make you laugh against his mouth.

Rafe grins down at you as you laugh, and you bring your other hand up to his chest.

“When are we leaving?” You ask him, your eyes still trained on his lips.

“Whenever you want to.” He answers you over the music.

You use the opportunity of having him while he’s leaning down, and steal a kiss. It’s a short and quick peck, but enough to feed your urges for some more time. Rafe does the same to you, and you smile before continuing on with your conversation.

“How am I going to climb back into my room?” You ask him.

Rafe doesn’t answer right away.

“Good question.” He answers you, and you laugh in his face.

Your sober self would for sure worry about such things, probably even worry too much, but you’re too distracted with all that is going on in front of you. It took you hours to understand how much freedom you actually have at parties. You don’t need to hide in your bedroom with Rafe anymore. To seal in your celebrations of the matter, you cup Rafe’s face with your hands and kiss him all over again.

Rafe holds you close to him as you two kiss, and the familiar feeling of his hands holding onto you makes you feel like putty in his hands. Rafe’s hands stay there and don’t do much other than bring you closer. As soon as one of his fingers gets to move in between both your skirt and top, you are done. 

Your body begins to warm up, and the familiar flame at the bottom of your stomach lights up. You, deeply lost in the kiss, let out a small moan against his mouth, one Rafe didn’t even hear properly due to the music and everyone’s voices, but he pulls away anyway. One look at your face, and he knows that he has to take you home.

“Let’s go home.” He tells you, and you whine out loud when he tries to move. “What?”

“Just one more.” You tell him, bringing your hands to his chest and playing with the fabric of his shirt in between your fingers.

Rafe takes a good look at your face, and you drunkenly offer him a pretty smile before giving him the extra kiss you so need - and stealing a few more in the meantime. You give him another and another and only pull away when feeling satisfied. 

He’s the one that announces the two of you leaving. You two walk away from both his group of friends and the girls as you do so, and you’re the one, funnily enough, that takes the longest to say goodbye. You’re not sure, but you might have said that you loved them and much more as you left. The girls, drunker than you, screamed it back while hugging you tighter.

Rafe is the one that opens the space for the two of you to walk through the crowd. You hold his hand in the meantime, playing and moving with the golden ring on his finger. When outside, you shiver with the cold breeze.

There are some people smoking by the door when you walk out, and Rafe makes sure he helps you down the steps. You hold onto him due to his warmth, and the two of you silently make your way through the driveway of the large house. Surprisingly a lot of cars aren’t there anymore, even when the house is still full.

Rafe walks to your door first, unlocking the car and swinging the door open. You detach from his arm and take a look at the truck you’re getting in. Rafe stays behind you, and you walk on closer and, tiredly (and drunkenly), stare at your seat.

Only after much concentration, do you get inside the car, and Rafe closes the door after you. He goes around and gets inside the car as well. You put on your seatbelt and try to blink your sleep away as Rafe begins to drive off.

It hasn’t even been 2 minutes on the road, you turn to him and reach in for his pocket. Rafe looks down at your hand for a second before focusing on the road right after. You grab your phone and pull out gently.

As it’s out, you notice something else falling from his pocket. Innocently, you stare at it for a while before you put two and two together. A small bag of coke just fell out of his pocket.

You don’t say anything, but you do pick it up and put it back in his pocket. When you do it, you're stopped at a red light, and Rafe has been looking down at your hand this entire time. You notice him looking, and curiosity consumes you.

“Does it feel good?” You ask him, “To be high.”

Rafe stares at your face for only a few seconds before the light turns green.

“Yeah.” He offers you a grin, enjoying the innocence in your tone.

There’s a small moment of silence. You lean closer to the console, resting your chin on your fist. You stare at him for just a little bit, watching as the street lights light his face. Then, it’s another red light, making Rafe have to give you his full attention.

“Can you spend the night tonight?” You ask him.

“I don’t know. Might not be a good idea.”

“Why?” You ask in a sincerely hurt tone.

“You’re drunk.” He tells you, “We might make too much noise when coming in.”

You sigh out loud, making Rafe shine a little smile in amusement at your despair.

“Then, can we pull over? I don’t want to go home yet.”

You watch Rafe continue to drive for just a little bit and eventually pull over at the side of the empty road.

You get your seatbelt off, and Rafe does it as well. You move out of your seat and go over to his, sitting comfortably on his lap. Rafe stares at you even in the lack of light and, when sat down over his thighs, with your face illuminated with the moonlight, it doesn’t take long for either of you to begin the kiss.

The kisses are softer than at the party, and you relax entirely in Rafe’s lap. The kisses are sweet, and your mind has gone blank right as you feel Rafe’s hands on your thighs. They move up and down, squeezing the flesh from time to time and, most of the time, staying under the fabric of your skirt. You don’t ever come close to complaining.

The flame at the bottom of your stomach comes back full force when Rafe’s hand pauses a bit too high up on your thigh, by your underwear. You deepen the kiss and try to get closer to move your hips over him, but Rafe pulls you away softly, making you look at him confused.

“You’re drunk.” He whispers in your face, “I need to get you home.”

“But- Rafe.” You whisper back in a little whine, bringing your hand to his, the fabric of your skirt in between.

“You’re drunk.” He repeats simply and tries to ignore the way you look at him, “Tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow I’m going to be hungover.” You complain.

Rafe grins in amusement at your words and shakes his head at you before leaning back on his seat again. You follow him and try to kiss him, but Rafe never lets each kiss last more than just a few seconds. You grunt, very much annoyed to every degree, and sit back on his lap.

“This isn’t fair.” You whisper to yourself while looking out of the window. Rafe watches your dramatics with a smile on his face, and you easily get distracted by the nothingness of the outside. “But what if the both of us were drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“And why not?”

“Because I didn’t drink as much as you did.”

“And why didn’t you?” You ask and Rafe continues to smile at your face. You’re so serious it’s almost like you’re drawing a theory on why he’s not having sex with you, as if that was a plan all along. “Do you hate me?”

Rafe chuckles. “No, I don’t hate you.”

“Feels like you do.” You whisper dramatically, making the man laugh yet again.

Rafe holds your face to give you a quick kiss, but that doesn’t clear your annoyed expression away. He moves his hand away from your thigh, and it almost makes you glare at him. Him and his annoyingly handsome face.

“You hate me.” You conclude before reaching over to your seat to grab your phone.

Rafe shakes his head, deeply amused, and watches as you grab your phone. You come back to his lap and check your notifications, still clear from anything to do with someone finding out your whereabouts. You discard your phone right after and lean in close to Rafe all over again. You purposely move your hips as you get closer, and he inhales sharply at that. You grab his hands and lay them over your hips again.

“It’s not going to work.” He tells you, “Whatever you’re doing. I’m not having sex with you.”

“Do you really not want to?” You ask while being so close, your noses almost touching.

“Of course, I want to, baby,” He whispers softly at you, “But you’re drunk. I can’t do that to you.”

“But I feel less drunk than when I was at the party.” You try, playing with the collar of his shirt.

As your hands stay busy with his shirt, Rafe wraps his arms around you and pulls you as close as he can, making you practically glued to one another. You look at his face.

“Less drunk isn’t sober.”

“But you also aren’t 100% sober.” You tell him.

He doesn’t say anything.

“What if you got high?” You offer him the option, “That would make both of us not-sober.”

He smiles at you and shakes his head.

“Please?” You say with your small pout, laying small kisses on his lips.

You give him countless kisses. There hasn’t been a day that you’ve kissed him so many times, but the need for you to have him touch you is out of this world. Deep down, you know he won’t go with what you’re saying, but you won’t give up just yet.

Rafe’s hand comes up to hold the back of your head, and he gives you a final kiss.

“Tomorrow. I’ll come and see you, okay?”

“What time?”

“Whenever you get up.”

“Then spend the night.” You whisper, “Please, please. I’ll do anything.”

He stares at your face for a little bit.

“Please…” You elongate the word against his lips before giving him one more kiss, “That’s all I want.”

“Fine.” He finally says, and you almost scream in excitement. “But you have to promise to not talk when we get inside your room.”

“Why?” You whisper, leaning a little away from his face.

“You cannot whisper when you’re drunk.”

I'M BACK!!

I'm so sorry there is no smut in this, the next part will be better in that degree. (Just to warn you guys, the next part is going to be filthy and will mention and include drugs.) Hopefully, it won't take me too long to edit.

Please let me know what you thought of this in the comments or on my askbox. I really missed you guys ❤️❤️

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 24

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 24: fulfillment

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There needs to be a central place," Charlie paced around the small map lying on the library floor. "Somewhere for everyone to hang out and share feelings and meet each other."

Husker and I sat on one of the window seats with a drink in hand. He had alcohol and I had tea. The hot summer days brought heavy rain in most of the afternoons, either cooling things off or making everything hot and muggy. Fortunately, today was a cool day.

Alastor stood in the corner between me and the fireplace. Since the start of this project only two days ago, he had been increasingly annoying and bothersome. He always had some snide, rude, or sarcastic remark to make to anyone and everyone. When it came to me, he was always putting a hand on my shoulder. Each and every time I pushed it off.

"What about just one big hall? Meals and other activities can be held there, too." Vaggie was just as smiley as Charlie. If I had to guess, they had been bored out of their minds for decades since their hotel went under.

To my great dismay, I had been outvoted for location of the Safe Haven. We were going to build it from the ground up in the field and forest right outside the house. Alastor had casted a smug smile, one without teeth, in my direction when the decision had been made. It infuriated me.

Later, when the sun had sunk into the ocean, I was told there would be two more people arriving shortly. They were residents of Charlie's hotel long ago and apparently jumped at the chance to help her again.

She greeted the Demons at the back door and brought them into the library. One of them was a huge black snake with red eyes dotted across his skin. He wore a black hat and had long fangs poking out of his sweet smile.

The other one had four arms and a pair of legs. I thought he was a woman until he spoke and introduced himself otherwise. Husker had immediately stood beside him and the new Demon wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Husker had never told me about him before.

My veins suddenly tightened. 

Oh no. 

I asked if anyone wanted anything to eat or drink and hurried into the kitchen. I used my tail to move the one door closed, quietly, and leaned on the counter. I clutched at my chest and tried to push the feeling down. I had forgotten to hunt this morning since Charlie had practically dragged me out of bed and downstairs to plan.

"Everything alright?" Alastor's condescending tone reached my ears.

"Never better," I said through gritted teeth. I took a deep breath and grabbed mugs from the cabinet. "And no, I don't need you."

"I didn't ask."

I casted a glare up at him. I used magic to heat the kettle faster and poured hot drinks for four Demons, knowing Husker wouldn't take anything other than alcohol. I brought the drinks into the library and set them in the desk. They were all in heated discussion and I realized just then how good of friends they were with each other. I suddenly felt very out of place.

I silently disappeared and fled the house. I shifted into my Dragon and hunted through the forest for any critters. I needed something to make the pain stop.

It ended up being a bat. I sat under a large tree to stay out of the rain and sunk my teeth into its skin. No matter how much of it I drank and ate, the satisfaction grew worse. It was almost as if my body had grown immune to this type of blood.

Shit.

I made my way back to the house. Once the planning for the Safe Haven was finished, I needed to convince Charlie to let the first inhabitants be the children from the ring fights. I could get what I needed in the skirmish.

Alastor was waiting just inside the front door. "Did it suffice?"

"Leave me alone." I went back into the library feeling itchy all over. Even my blood felt itchy. At least the sharp pain was gone and it was just an annoying thorn in my back.

I was quiet for the remainder of the night for the most part. I let the group do their own thing and only offered my input when no one could decide on something. Alastor perched himself on one of the chairs in the corner and was also relatively quiet. He pushed my shields a few times as if to remind me he was there.

****

Building began the very next day. Alastor, Husker, and I spent the morning casting the water into the ocean and drying up the earth. Apparently all Demons hated rain, execept for me. Fortunately, the sun came out and helped speed up the process.

The group from last night came back ready to build. My heart stopped when I saw the King of Hell walking down in front of them. Alastor's eyes locked on the small man and static gurgled in his throat. It took all of three seconds before the two of them were at each other's throat. No one could tell me why they hated each other.

The group had decided to focus on creating basic housing 'huts', food gardens, and a common space for the newcomers to use. Once we had more people, the easier it would be to truly build the city. Charlie seemed to have a certain vision for it and some of her sketches looked interesting. She was incorporating a lot of nature into the layout. I couldn't say that I hated it. I had lived on concrete most of my life and being close to nature in the past year was really nice.

The basic layout followed most of what today's cities followed: brick and stone. She was already accounting for lots of inhabitants so the building had at least two layers to them. Everything had lots of windows to allow as much sunlight in as possible. It made sense since, even in the summer time, all the Demons wore long sleeves and pants. Husker and I were the odd ones out who were always sweating and complaining of the heat.

Alastor didn't do much to help the group. He stayed on the porch and simply watched from afar. Lucifer helped by magically spawning the material into existence but even he didn't do much to actually build anything. The rest of us used bits of magic to build the basic huts and the 'grand hall', as Charlie put it.

It felt good to have something physical to do. It was also refreshing to be around people other than Alastor and Husker. I didn't really say much, content with being silent and observant. They all seemed like really good friends and I even noticed Husker was especially close with Angel.

Everything was going fine for the most part. The huts were made from basic wood dug deep into the ground. There was a glass wall at the front where a curtain could be pulled across at night for privacy. Each one held four beds. They would soon be filled with ex-ring fighters.

Everything was going fine...until it wasn't.

We were nailing in one of the boards on the side of the hut when Angel nicked one of his arms on a nail. He pressed at the wound and dropped the hammer. My eyes widened as the smell reached my nose.

Oh no.

My feet were bolted to the ground and my hands hung still in the air. My Demon side came out as the smell only strengthened when he pulled his hand away. My veins tightened and breathing became really hard. Everything hurt. Husker was too busy tending to him to notice my state.

I breathed out through my nose and held my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut and took the to the sky in my Dragon form. I wanted to turn around so bad. I wanted to taste his sweet blood. It had been so long since I last had Demon's blood and he was so close to me. But I couldn't. That wasn't me. I wasn't a Demon like that.

But boy did Demon's blood taste sweet.

My mind started to hurt. I flew deep into the forest and landed in a cold river. I tried covering myself in the freezing water but it did nothing to rid the feeling. My eyes scanned the scenery for life, finally landing on a deer. I ran and caught it within seconds, tearing apart it's fresh and drinking it's blood.

It did nothing.

I shifted to my Demon form and tried again. No amount of blood or flesh eased the agony. It was so painful everywhere, inside and out. I needed to breathe, to think, to be normal. I needed blood other than an animal's.

I looked at the dead animal in front of me. My claws up to my elbows were covered in blood and the fronts of my pants were soaked with it. The poor creature had died for nothing.

Pain surged through me again. I curled inward and fell on my back. It felt like my body was eating itself from the inside. I crawled over to the water and looked at my reflection. My horns were obvious and blood was smeared across my face. I looked like a real Demon.

I dunked my head into the river and rubbed it off. It took several tries before most of it had finally come off my skin. My shirt and pants would need to be thrown out.

"This is very unbecoming of you." My head jerked up to see Alastor standing a few paces from me, cane in hand.

"What the hell do you want?" I snapped. I dried my face with the clean part of my shirt. I was afraid to stand in case it made the pain pulse again.

"To ensure my soulmate doesn't die because of her stubbornness and stupidity."

"I'm not stupid."

"You have waited so long and let yourself reach such a painful state because you couldn't set your ego and morals aside."

"You're one to talk about ego." Another pulse ran through my body. I curled further into myself as nausea took hold of me. I dug my hands into the earth and let out a strangled yell. I just needed it all to stop.

"All you had to do was ask." His cane tapped the rocks as he stepped near me. He knelt down and held out his hand. A piece of red meat sat on brown paper in his palm. He used his claw to poke it so blood dripped out.

Hunger and pain threw me off balance. I clung to the grass as my world began to tilt wildly to one side. My breathing came out in long, hard gasps. My head felt cloudy and I couldn't think straight. All I could focus on was the sweet smell of the blood in his hand.

I reached for it but he held it up. "Ah ah, you have to ask me first."

"What?" I choked.

"If you want this pain to go away, you have to ask me for this simple antidote."

"I'm not...you're...you can't..." I gagged as the pain worsened. I put a hand into the cold water but it did nothing to wake me up. "P-please..."

"Please what?"

"Please..." I started to drool as I struggled to push myself to my elbows. Everything took thrice the effort. I didn't want to ask him but it was so close. All I had to do was ask. That's it. "Can...can I have it?"

"What was that, dear?" He put a hand up to his ear condescendingly.

"Can I have it?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course, darling." He held out the meat and I snatched it from his grasp. My teeth pierced the sweet flesh and the blood soothed every ache and pain in my body. It felt so satisfying as it slipped down my throat and warmed my body.

My head cleared and my muscles relaxed as I swallowed it. I let out a heavy sigh and laid down. I craved more but it had satisfied what I needed. I felt calm.

"Come, darling, let's make you presentable."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

OoooOoOOoh I liked this one a lot. Also, would y'all be interested in the Spotify playlist I listen to when I write this story?

[dirtbra1n]

you ever wake up at two in the morning with ace attorney thinker glasses on and then suffer consequences for days after. Ha ha

so we’re all on the same page that maya was only so comfortable being such—and I do say this so so so lovingly—a complete leach and pest, leaving phoenix exhausted and harried and dirt poor, because she trusted him not to run away. not to abandon her. not to leave her behind.

because mia did. run away and abandon her and leave her behind. maya LOVED mia and still does, absolutely. ABSOLUTELY. but mia left the village and left maya there alone to bear a burden that wasn’t supposed to be hers. left maya to handle their aunt morgan alone.

like a critical part of their relationship is that mia kind of sucks. this is such high praise for her as a character and a statement of love for her as a person Mia Fey kind of really sucks. she doesn’t not love her little sister, but she had to leave. she had to. leaving the village on one of the old motorcycles they kept in a garage-turned-shack, one that used to make grocery trips before a staff shortage shut down the store fifteen minutes away, and giving maya a long kiss on the forehead, holding her face in her hands, and getting on the bike with underclothes on, the only clothes she has that cover her legs and let her stretch them at the same time. and driving away, leaving maya standing there, alone. so little.

so life goes on. holding onto evidence. blunt force trauma. maya ends up with phoenix in the city—meets him, reserved, convinced she’s going to die in prison. is given the light of his unwavering faith in her innocence. sees the look in his eyes that says, I’m not going to leave you alone. cracks.

the maya fey that we get the privilege of loving, and getting to know, was born in criminal detention. a younger sister that gets to act like it for a while.

until she leaves first, because she can’t abandon pearl the way mia abandoned her. she goes back to the village to train.

have to say that maya’s grief of mia’s death was solely about never getting to really know her as a person. she’s never going to really know her older sister. but it’s solely about THAT because she’s had years to come to terms with the fact that the title and burden of being head of the family was going to be hers. years to practice ignoring the way aunt morgan’s eyes burned at her.

mia was a violent nervous person, by the way. we know this. punches under pressure.

redd white gets back to the gatewater with bleeding teeth marks on his arm.

anyway though. maya goes back to kurain to commit herself to her training, goes back to ignoring the burning in aunt morgan’s eyes. she doesn’t feel good about the way that seven year old pearly is mothering her. not that it’s pearl’s fault.

a mother that doesn’t really care about her happiness so much as her future success. because if morgan really cared about what pearly wanted she’d never DREAM of hurting maya. but that’s neither here nor there.

but phoenix. the three of them a family unit, eventually, when they’ve essentially just got each other. phoenix gets disbarred. trucy comes into their lives. their family unit, plus one.

maya doesn’t feel GOOD, exactly, with watching phoenix go the way he goes (drinking problem, mostly) but damn if she wasn’t born to help run a grift. (pearl does their finances.)

maya DEFINITELY doesn’t feel good about watching phoenix go the way he goes with kristoph, though. not necessarily that maya doesn’t trust kristoph. but those two… maya looks up from where she’s elbow-deep in dish water, turns around to look into the living room where pearl and trucy are passed out on the pullout sofa, past them. looks at the front door phoenix walked out an hour and a half ago to head out to dinner. he promised to bring some shitty too-expensive food back.

he might not be back til morning.

it’s probably not that she doesn’t trust kristoph as a person, but that she knows that those two… really aren’t…… good for each other. like it’s none of her damn business, but geez, nick.

saw a thread on twitter once about how maybe kristoph defended maya once, when phoenix was obviously unable to. I should go and find that again. because that’s kind of what I think happened here.

You didn’t just brain a guy with a juice bottle for no reason. Tell me why you did it.

phoenix wright and his unfailing bone deep trust in people. phoenix who absolutely did not trust kristoph with his life but didn’t really care about that so long as he could trust him to take care of loved ones. phoenix who did, also, fully trust kristoph with his life.

a contradiction. big surprise.