#some bonds are too precious to abandon

[sugurouge]

— sting: alpha!miya atsumu x omega!f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, taboo topics, non-canon, (pseudo-)incest, stepcest, omegaverse, heavy topics of jealousy, possessiveness, dubcon marking, begging, very submissive reader, cheating, breeding kink, dubcon knotting, obsession, some blood

summary: in a society divided by secondary genders, a young girl is adopted into the prestigious miya family, defying conventions due to her undeniable charm & precious nature. as you grow up, your bond with atsumu shifts, leading to a complex mix of emotions & forbidden desires

wordcount: 4.6k

fyi: atsumu & reader were pretty much attracted to another since her secondary gender was revealed. reader is one year younger than the twins

a/n: for @goxjo's omegaverse collab! make sure to check out the other works if you've enjoyed my lil story. pspsps thank you for letting me join, aki my luv (˶˃ᆺ˂˶)

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume and read dark content.

In a society where the hierarchies of alphas, betas, and omegas define social standing and family legacy, adoption is a rarity. Families fiercely guard their bloodlines, refusing to weaken their position with the introduction of an outsider. Yet, in the case of the Miya family, exceptions were made when they saw you. Abandoning a helpless young girl you was never an for your future mother. You were too precious to be left behind.

From the moment your adoptive parents met you, it felt like a blessing. Your sparkling eyes and adorable smile captivated them in an instant. You, in all your little glory, were a true delight.

Neither you nor your new family can recall a time before you became part of their lives. The notion of your adoption was never mentioned, for it didn't matter. To you, they were simply your family, your pack. The protective embrace of the Miya family, renowned alphas, became your sanctuary. Under their care, the eventual reveal of your secondary gender was irrelevant. What mattered was the bond, the love, and the undeniable connection that tied you all together.

To your older brothers, you were their cherished little sister—sweet, gentle, and always eager to bridge the gap between them. You strived to ease their conflicts and show your love for each one of them, appreciating their unique qualities and talents equally.

Yes, you had no favourite. You loved them equally, and they both loved you in return, as their family. Until one didn't. Until something changed.

Suddenly, one of them seemed bothered by your mere presence. Always leaving the second you entered the same room, averting his gaze if your eyes were to ever meet, and ignoring your entire being at school.

This intoxicating, honey-like vapour with hints of candied oranges radiates out for metres around, drenching the halls of Inarizaki High and leaving Atsumu drunk on you.

He can't think straight, can’t focus on sports or academics. You’re the unofficial reason girls are now banned from volleyball practice. Even worse, you’re practically banned from his life. The shift from affectionate brother to distanced meanie was too sudden for you to not feel hurt. So much for your sweet sixteen…

You practically ruined him overnight, your secondary gender holding effects unexpected to it. Now, instead of grabbing ice cream as a group of three, it's you alone. Unless Osamu can join, but even that seems to annoy the faux-blond. He seems irritated by everything you do or do not do. You’re lucky if he walks off without saying a word, as every time Atsumu loses control over his emotions you end up crying in your mother’s embrace. He locks himself in his room and tries to rid himself of the nasty thoughts and feelings he holds inside.

But then there are moments...

Moments when he turns soft, when you meet at night by accident in the kitchen and he’s too drowsy to control his instincts. Suddenly, gentle eyes can't seem to look at anything but you. Suddenly, the smallest space between you seems unbearable to Atsumu.

And you let him. You’re no better.

You embrace him, gently running your fingers through his hair, and hum softly—your tender care is utterly captivating. How could his hands not grasp the fabric of your shirt, his arms tightening around you to hold you close, as the warmth between you rises and your hearts beat in unison?

Yet, it all fades at the break of dawn.  Only a faint blend of your scents lingers—reminiscent of breakfast, with comforting notes of cinnamon and sugar. 

It’s as if the scene abruptly shifts, like a sudden cut in a film. The atmosphere returns to its former state, and you find yourself once again only conversing with Osamu. 

◈ 

Until you turn 18.

Until your first heat starts. Your nest made of anything you could grab in time, stealing blankets, pillows, an accidental hoodie of Atsumu.Something about it seemed so awfully comforting, you couldn’t refuse.

At night, you weep with your face buried in the fabrics, trying to muffle the sounds of your distress while immersing yourself in the rich aroma of cinnamon and spice. You’re burning from the inside, the need to rip your skin from your bones is almost unbearable. Your feverish state leaves you crying under the moonlight's embrace, a trembling plea of desperate longing echoes throughout the night. You crave, you need, more.

But what about your brothers? While they were both forced to wear earbuds and use scent blockers, one suffered just as much as you. Instincts, after all, cannot be completely suppressed.

Atsumu groans, his head sinking into the pillows of his bed as his eyes flutter shut.. God, he loathes this. Loathes having to run his own hands over his physique to remove his shirt. He would much rather feel your soft fingertips dip beneath the fabric and explore his heated torso. Every passing second more agonising than the one before. His only refuge is the enveloping darkness as he presses his eyes shut, desperate to escape the burning torment he's sinking into. He can hear you through the walls, your whines and moans of pain piercing through his solitude.

He really needs to move out.

◈

Your parents welcome you into adulthood, finally granting you the freedom to seek out your life partner, your mate. Yet, your brother won’t even give you the chance to explore this new chapter.

No, after that night, everything changes. He’s unnervingly close, pressing himself against your back, shamelessly inhaling your scent, burying his face in the nape of your neck. He decks you in compliments and constant touches.

Suddenly, he's everywhere around you, determined to keep anyone else at a distance instead. He insists you wear his jackets to school, wrapping you in his scent and effectively isolating you from the world. His overprotective behaviour is so extreme that even your parents are baffled by Atsumu’s mood swings. His intentions unclear as they all believe in the family bond you all have built over the years. 

And you never voice a word of complaint. You would never even dream of challenging Atsumu’s behaviour. In fact, you seem to revel in it.

Despite Osamu’s growing suspicions and the concern it stirs in your parents, their advice falls on deaf ears. Both of you refuse their suggestion: after all, he’s your brother! You feel secure with him close by and aren’t ready to meet your alpha yet. So, your parents can only observe from the sidelines, hoping and praying it’s smooth sailing until the twins move out.

Until the nest is empty.

◈

What they don’t know is how your older brother projects the echoes of your cries and whimpers during your nights in heat onto his fleeting encounters. At 26, he remains resolutely single, every blind date a disappointment, every hookup unsatisfying and hollow. The desire he feels for you overshadows every attempt at connection, leaving him unfulfilled and unwilling to commit.

Everything seems colourless, flavourless-until family calls.

◈

You’ve moved abroad for your studies, seeking to put distance between you and Atsumu, desperate to suppress the sick thoughts and desires that have plagued your mind. You hoped that a change of scenery, far from Japan, would help you start fresh, to find your alpha and live a life untainted by these unsettling feelings.

Yet, returning home for Osamu’s engagement presents an unexpected challenge. The stage is set: the occasion is beautiful, with halls adorned in flowers and sweets to celebrate the festivities. But amidst the elegant decorations, nothing captivates quite like you. Your presence is intoxicating to Atsumu, who can hardly contain himself. Forgive him for losing his composure. Don’t mind the intense stares from across the room, the desire pooling in his dark eyes that burns into your back. Promises made to his brother were forgotten the second he got a glimpse of you.

Suddenly, the suit feels too tight, the necktie suffocating, and his palms dry. Here you are. You, in a stunning dress that accentuates every curve. You radiate a glowing allure that confirms—you're at your prime, ripe for the taking.

A strong arm wraps around your waist, the heat of his body searing through the fabric of your dress. Without needing to turn, you already know who it is; his name escapes your glossed lips. “Atsumu.”

He pulls you close, his presence enveloping you, his voice soft and sheepish against your ear. “I’ve missed ya,” he confesses, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You’ve missed him too, of course. Yet you tried to replace him with someone morally acceptable—a volleyball player from New York, who bore a slight resemblance to your brother. But could he ever truly fill the void left by Atsumu?

The sweet mixture of scents turns sour before you can even reply to Atsumu, before you can admit how much you’ve missed him as well. His fingertips explore your neck, lingering on your scent gland, fainted dents still feasible for his touch. The pressure borders on painful, as he demands an answer with a dangerous edge: “Who?”

If looks could kill, you’d be a dead woman. Your anxious scent mingles with his anger, creating an intense atmosphere that seems to draw everyone’s attention. The events unfold faster than your family can react. You feel the sting of his nails digging into your skin, jealousy manifesting as sharp pain as blood threatens to stain your dress.

Osamu, ever the protector, shields you from Atsumu’s anger, ensuring to guide you out of the halls in a rush. “I apologise for what he did,” the dark-haired twin mumbles, as he patches you up. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this, I promise.” He meets your eyes with a searching look. “He swore to keep his distance. And I thought you’d bring your boyfriend.”

You finally admit in defeat, “He couldn’t make it. I didn’t want to pressure him either—it’s too soon for him to fly over ten hours just to meet my…” You hesitate, casting a glance around the room as a deep sigh escapes you, “…family.”

Osamu nods, understanding. He returns to kneeling in front you, his expression filled with concern. “I hoped that after all these years, Atsumu would have cooled off.”

You cut him off, feeling an odd need to defend the blond. “He never did anything wrong,” you insist, trying to convince both Osamu and yourself as your gaze falters. “I’m just as much to blame as he is.” With this declaration, you rise and offer Osamu your hand, helping him back to his soon-to-be wife and the rest of the guests.

Nothing could have prepared you for the smell—the overpowering stench that no flowers could mask. Atsumu sits at the table, his eyes unfocused as your father speaks to him, the words a blur as his lips move too fast for you to catch. You only learn the outcome of the conversation when your mother asks you to approach your oldest brother.

Standing beside him now feels different, a new layer of fear creeping into your emotions—something you never anticipated feeling from him. “I’m sorry,” Atsumu finally breaks the heavy silence, straightening up to face you while avoiding your eyes. “I guess my protective instincts went a bit overboard after… all these years.” He clears his throat, cringing slightly at his own words.

With all eyes on you, you can only hum in agreement before you’re guided to sit beside Atsumu. The effort to mask the sour scent of his anger and soothe him only possible with you being closeby. You have to forget about your own feelings for the day; after all, the event is meant for enjoyment and celebration. Every smile you force, every laugh you share feels tainted with an aftertaste of discomfort, yet you try to maintain a semblance of normalcy, for Osamu.

But the close proximity—shoulders brushing, hands fleetingly touching, eyes meeting—heightens the tension between you. Your heart races uncontrollably, and shivers travel down your spine, each sensation a reminder of the internal struggle between your morals and instincts.

Atsumu, everso selfless, extended an offer for you to stay at his apartment. It was a gesture of goodwill, though it now feels like an unexpected complication. No one anticipated his behaviour would spiral this much, especially after the plans had been made. Your parents, trusting their children, hoped that Atsumu would have matured enough and that staying at his place would be more comfortable for you. They assumed you were busy enough with your studies and the hassle of flying back home to Japan that they simply decided for you weeks ago.

But as the door to Atsumu’s apartment clicks shut, the reality of the situation settles in. The safety of this space, the sanctuary you hoped for, now feels like a fighting ring where the unresolved tension might only grow.

Atsumu carefully guides you to your room, setting down your luggage, while repeating the same sentence over and over in his head: “Let her in and leave, lock your door, go to sleep.” Yet, as he turns to face you, his presence looms over you like a storm, his hands grazing your neck with a possessive, almost reverent touch, as his eyes lock onto yours.

“Who?” he asks again, his voice a low, dangerous murmur that sends shivers down your spine.

The blockers you’ve relied on falter under the overwhelming force of his scent, a potent mix of spice and raw desire that fills the room and stirs something deep and primal within you. You try to form a coherent response, try to remember the name of your partner, but your mind is consumed by the intoxicating presence of Atsumu. Each breath you take is thick with his scent, and you find yourself struggling to maintain a shred of rational thought.

Your attempt to explain dissolves into a stuttering mess, and all you can manage is a pathetic, “Not you.” The words escape your lips as a weak, desperate whimper, and Atsumu’s reaction is immediate and intense. A guttural groan of frustration erupts from him as he seizes your hips, pulling you roughly against his chest. His powerful arms encircle you, creating a cocoon of warmth that feels both incredibly comforting and alarmingly suffocating.

You can’t deny the wave of relief that washes over you as his scent engulfs you, blending with your own and heightening the undeniable ache between your legs. The slickness pooling in your panties is a blatant testament to your arousal, and Atsumu’s keen senses pick up on it immediately. His fingers dig into your body with a possessive urgency that makes your head spin.

A mental war rages within you: the clear, rational part of your mind screams that this is wrong, that your relationship with Atsumu is taboo and fraught with complications. But it’s overpowered by a darker, primal greed that drives you to clutch at him with a fervent need. You can’t ignore the way your body responds to his touch, the way every fibre of your being craves him despite the guilt and confusion clouding your thoughts.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as your lips brush against his neck. A desperate plea slips from your lips, echoing a longing you can no longer suppress. “Alpha…”

Atsumu’s groan vibrates through your body as his lips trail down your jawline, a possessive hunger that makes your knees weak. His tongue flicks over your scent gland, marking his claim with a rasping, “Mine, always been mine.” And it all gets too much for little you. Tears stream down your cheeks as you plead, “Tsumu… please…” Each cry is a mix of desperation and guilt, torn between what you know is wrong and the overpowering need within you.

“You’re telling me you belong to someone else? Yet you beg for me,” he speak lowly into your ear. As his sounds and murmurs fill your ear, the boundaries of right and wrong blur, leaving you surrendering to Atsumu’s fierce desire. His hands grip your waist with a primal hunger, the scent of desire thick in the air as he towers over you. 

You shake your head, incoherent cries escaping your lips. “Just you… Ever always… Tsumu… Yours…” Atsumu’s breath hitches as he nips at your neck, his canines grazing your skin with a tantalising edge that sends shivers down your spine. The primal need within you breaks free, overwhelming your morals.

His erection presses against your tummy, the scandalous sensation causing a moan to escape you. You arch your body, craving the heat and pressure only he can provide. Atsumu’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he revels in your response.

“Good omega,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. His hands explore your body, tracing your curves before sliding under your dress to caress your bare skin. Every touch is electric, fueling the fire between you.

When his fingers brush against your damp panties, Atsumu’s leans closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “You’re mine, every part of you.” You moan in reply as his touch makes your body tremble, his weight pressing against you with a throbbing intensity.

“Please…” you beg, grinding against him, seeking more friction. “Tsumu… I need…” The energy almost driving you to come undone already, each touch overwhelming your self-control.

Atsumu’s movements are motivated by an insatiable need, his rough hands unrelenting as he pushes you onto the bed. “I need you,” he utters, his voice thick with desire. Your heart pounds, anticipation and desperation spiralling out of control as he undresses, his clothes hitting the floor in a blur. The raw need coursing through you is almost unbearable, each second that passes intensifying your craving. His every movement is a tease, a promise of the release you’re aching for, and your body trembles with a desperate hunger that feels as though you need him to survive.

He tears away your dress with frantic urgency, his lips scattering kisses across your exposed skin. “So perfect,” he murmurs into your skin, his breath hot and ragged. His touch ignites a fresh wave of need as his lips trail down your collarbone, his fingers finding the hem of your panties and stripping them away with fervent determination. “Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice a low rasp.

When he finally tastes you, his tongue exploring your core with hungry abandon, each lick fuels the fire within. “More,” you plead, “Please, Tsumu, more!”

He hums in approval, swearing to himself to give you everything you crave. As he positions himself between your thighs, his body presses against yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Atsumu’s breath comes in ragged bursts as he looks down at you, his eyes dark with an almost feverish desire. “Maybe I should just fuck you senseless,” he muses, his voice thick with hunger. You whine in need, your body trembling as you practically drool over the sight of him. His slightly too-big cock rubs teasingly against your folds, each friction sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

“Gonna fill that sweet little cunt with my cum…” he groans, his words a sultry promise as he coats himself with your juices. Without any further preparation, he pushes into you. The stretch is overwhelming—too much, too good, too painful, yet just right. It’s as if he belongs inside you.

Your body arches instinctively to meet him, a desperate cry escaping your lips as you revel in the sensation. The connection between you both is undeniable, and with each inch that he sinks deeper, you’re consumed by the desperate need that has built up between you over the years.

Atsumu moans in response to your cries, his voice a low growl. “Breed you all day long, fuck…” he continues, his words a promise of unrelenting passion. He pauses for a moment, his hand gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place. The tip of his cock presses deeply into your fluttering walls, each thrust reaching parts of you that make your body shiver.

“Not already coming from just this, are you, baby?” Atsumu growls, his breath hot against your skin. His voice is laced with a mix of teasing and hunger, the edge of possessiveness clear in his tone. When you nod, your soft mewls send shivers through him.

Your arms tighten around his neck, pressing your face against his warm, soft skin as you beg, “Please, plea—ah, take care of me.” Your desperation is punctuated by those pathetic little whimpers, a level of need that drives your Alpha absolutely insane.

Atsumu pulls out of you momentarily, his gaze locked on yours. He groans, “‘Course I will,” before his hips snap forward again, plunging into you with a relentless force. Each thrust is driven by years of pent-up frustration and need, every motion filled with unfiltered desire.

You writhe beneath him, consumed by an overwhelming urge for his bite, his cock, his knot. You crave to be filled to the brim, your body yearning to be stretched and stuffed until you're perfectly round and swollen. “Tsumu” Your voice is desperate, barely recognizable as your own, laced with need. “I'm breeding your sweet little cunt and you’re going to take every. single. drop.” With the last words he already thrusts harshly into you. Big hands claw into your waist, forcing your body to arch helplessly as he dominates you. His thrusts are deep and relentless, each powerful movement making the fat of your ass jiggle. “Such a good bunny…” Atsumu groans, his voice dripping with possessive satisfaction.

“Now, come for me,” Atsumu commands, his gaze fixed on your quivering form. “Come all over me.” Desperation claws at you as you seek your release, your weak hands scratching at Atsumu’s back, leaving red streaks that burn on his skin. Legs spread wide for your alpha, your breasts bounce with every forceful thrust of Atsumu’s hips, connecting with yours in a delightful rhythm. Pleasure clouds your mind, reducing you to a chant of his name, each utterance a desperate plea.

Atsumu's mind roars with need as he looks down at you. He wants to mark you, claim you completely, and breed you. Now that he has you beneath him, he is determined to savour every moment, to ensure you are utterly his. He wants to see you drunk on his cock, to take care of you, his darling omega, until all but him is forgotten.

Atsumu feels you clenching around him, your tightness pushing him to the brink. “Just like that, good girl,” he groans, his voice rough with need. “You’re gonna make me cum.” The desire in his eyes is fierce as he thrusts deeper, the remnants of his control fraying with every movement.

With each powerful thrust, Atsumu's need to possess you grows. He envisions you marked, claimed, and filled by him, an unbreakable bond forged in this moment of passion. The rhythm of your bodies is a dance of primal desire, your cries of ecstasy blending with his guttural groans. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and need.

As you feel the peak of your release approaching, your body tightens around him, every nerve ending aflame with sensation. Atsumu's words, his touch, his presence, all coalesce into a symphony of desire that drives you over the edge. You tremble beneath him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in time with the rhythm of his thrusts.

You ache for him to release inside you, to fill you to the brim with the warmth you craved. The slap of his thighs against yours, the wet, frantic noises, and the erratic breaths all that fills the space between you. His strong scent envelops you, mingling with your own, as his fingers find your clit, rubbing with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure is overwhelming, stars exploding behind your closed eyes, your mind unable to grasp anything but the ecstasy he is giving you.

Atsumu’s chest presses heavily against you, a constant reminder of his dominance. “Don’t ever forget—” he rasps, his grip tightening on your hips. “That pretty cunt… these perfect tits… every damn inch of you belongs to me.” His words were a possessive threat, a vow of ownership.

He has you, his delicate omega, completely at his mercy. He's never going to give you away again. He feels high thanks to the way you unravel beneath him, turning you into a trembling, sobbing mess, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch and the sheer force of his desire.

In that moment, you both reach the pinnacle of your desires, your high-pitched moans intertwining with Atsumu's deep, guttural ones. And he fills you so deliciously. Atsumu’s knot swells, pressing tightly inside you as he fills you with his cum. Each pulse of his release sends waves of ecstasy through you, making you feel as if you’re on the brink of losing yourself. His teeth bite down on your neck, and the stinging sensation sends lightning to course through your weakened frame, chiselling your bond in stone. It feels as though the world has narrowed to just the two of you, your bodies entangled in a state of perfect, overwhelming bliss. “Mine, all mine...” the hushed promised whispered into your nape.

As the sensations finally begin to recede, you drift into unconsciousness, the warmth of sleep enveloping you and providing a hazy escape from mistakes made in the dark.

[sapphicjackal]

Bingyuan Soulmate au 3

Part 1 Part 2

Shen Yuan was overjoyed now that he had made contact with his Soulmate at last. Binghe was absolutely precious. The burst of his emotions written into his words were all so genuine and adoring. Once Binghe knew that they were soulmates, he all but bloomed into an adorable white lotus. The way he writes in a more formal and archaic dialect is charming, especially since it’s paired with the calligraphy brush he consistently uses. Shen Yuan finds his quirks overwhelmingly cute.

They had only known each other for two days, but Shen Yuan was working out something of a pattern for Binghe’s messages. He would wake up well before Shen Yuan, leaving a message on his wrist like Shen Yuan has done for years. Then Binghe will be busy for the rest of the day until late at night.

Maybe he works on a farm? 

Shen Yuan tried to picture an adorable (because there’s no way that Binghe isn’t the cutest thing in existence) child waking up with the sun to work on a farm. Shen Yuan doesn’t really know what work is done on a farm. It would probably be a lot of manual labor. Binghe’s too young to be working all day!

What if he’s one of those kids stuck in a sweatshop forced to do labor?

The thought of it breaks Shen Yuan’s heart, and fills him with protective fury.

His soulmate is a lot younger than him, so Shen Yuan has been trying to keep the conversation more shallow to protect his soulmate’s privacy and safety. However, he’s getting the feeling that Binghe isn’t in a great situation. 

Not knowing about soulmates indicates a level of isolation and deliberate ignorance. Being illiterate at 10 implies a level of disenfranchisement. The long hours that Binghe keeps where he’s too occupied to talk. Those emotions of fragile hope and loneliness that undercurrent some of his words.

Something is wrong, and Shen Yuan should address it sooner rather than later.

“Bing-er could you tell me where you live?” Shen Yuan writes during the afternoon, knowing Binghe will likely respond later that night. He keeps imparts emotions of curiosity, concern, and care, hoping Binghe will feel safe enough to tell him, even if they hadn’t known each other long.

He had to wait a few hours but finally he felt the tingle of a brush dragging across his skin. 

“This Binghe is a disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain’s Qing Jing Peak” Binghe wrote. Shen Yuan stared blankly at the words. He would doubt them, but he can feel the truth in the words. 

Soulmates can tell when the other is lying, because the communication is between two souls that are linked together. Soulmates can lie to each other verbally, but words written on skin can only be true to the soul, if they’re dishonest then your soulmate can tell.

Shen Yuan pulled up his phone and looked up Qing Jing Peak, not expecting anything to come up. He was surprised to get results. However the results were to a web page of a relatively new Web novel called <Proud Immortal Demon Way> which only has 4 published chapters.

Shen Yuan read the summary in disbelief, his eyes skimming over it before reading it over and over again to make sure he got it right. The main character’s name is Luo Binghe, named after the river that his washerwoman adoptive mother found him floating in after being abandoned in a basket on the coldest day of winter. 

Shen Yuan didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t think that Binghe was lying, their bond would tell him. Why would Binghe introduce himself as a character in a web novel that had barely started and had practically no audience. It made no sense.

None of this makes sense.

Shen Yuan can feel the tingle of a brush on his arm, Binghe must be wondering why he was taking so long to reply. Shen Yuan decided to read <Proud Immortal Demon Way> tomorrow during the day while Binghe is busy. He wouldn’t ask any questions that could make Binghe think that he doubted him. Shen Yuan just knows that it would shatter Binghe’s heart.

“Yuan-ge?” Binghe had written, light impatience mixed with a hint of nervousness and hopeful anticipation.

Shen Yuan decides to just go along with whatever Binghe says. No need to contradict him.

“I’m not a part of any sect. How do you find Qing Jing Peak?” Shen Yuan asked.

This time it was Binghe who took a long time to respond.

“This one likes Qing Jing Peak. Qing Jing Peak does not like this Binghe.” Binghe says, his words carry with them the faintest amount of bitterness, with a stronger mixture of sorrow, pain, and loneliness. The words feel like a whispered confession, like a truth too terrible to speak aloud. It feels vulnerable and painful raw in its honesty.

Shen Yuan’s heart hurts with the words. He has gotten so used to Binghe’s overwhelming vibrance, it makes it all the more clear how achingly diminished he feels in those words. All the brewing heartache that’s being exposed.

Shen Yuan glances at the summary page for a web novel, seeing the tags that promise a revenge story and power fantasy. It’s exactly the type of web novel that Shen Yuan likes to read. He pushes away all of his confusion and doubts to focus on what’s important, Binghe.

“I don’t know how anyone could not like Luo Binghe.” Shen Yuan writes, soaking the words with protective anger and overflowing adoration. Binghe is a good boy. Binghe deserves the world. Shen Yuan has only had him for 3 days but if anything happened to Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan would kill everybody in the world and then himself. 

“Yuan-ge!” Binghe writes, joy tinged lightly with heartache.

Shen Yuan changed the subject to instead ask about what Binghe was learning. Binghe told him that Qing Jing Peak was a Peak of scholars and that he was meant to learn the 4 Arts. However he wasn’t allowed into the classes with the other disciples and he was told to do chores instead of cultivating. 

It filled Shen Yuan with indignation. 

“I don’t know if my education holds up to Qing Jing Peak standards, but I have been learning the Four Arts. I’ll teach you whatever I can.” Shen Yuan wrote. He began trying to think of the best ways to teach the subjects with limited space and an inability to actually demonstrate in person. It would be difficult, but written instruction could hopefully help Binghe in some way.

“Thank you Yuan-ge!” Binghe wrote enthusiastically, filled with anticipation and hope. His brush strokes were messier than usual with his giddiness. 

Shen Yuan smiled at his arm. He had been thinking about becoming a teacher after he found tutoring his meimei to be enjoyable. Maybe this could be like his test? He’ll take this seriously, only the best for his Binghe. 

That means that Shen Yuan will have to do deep research into the four arts to expand his knowledge, and also work on putting together lesson plans. He should also look into teaching methods. (Not to mention the fact that his soulmate might just be the protagonist of a xianxia novel, a fact he was studiously putting out of mind and out of sight, meaning he should also research cultivation type settings.)

The bottom line is that his soulmate needs help, and after 15 years of waiting, Shen Yuan is prepared to do anything for his soulmate.

Part 4

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

No More Chances:

Fate's Prologue Assessment

CUT!

Let's review your scrip again, yes?

• Regression is the act of going back or a return to a past.

• You can guess what types of manwha I've reading.

• That's the AU for this fic that I intended for Y/N to have.

• Regarding about their past, I have mentioned that they have been regressing far too many times, reliving a new and yet still old life.

• Answer to why so many resets is possibly because of the 'butterfly effect' or something where even repeating resets can achange the outcomes because of the new actions you perform.

• Y/N might have done something that was different from 'the script' that led to a bad outcome resulting to another reset.

• The past or Y/N's original life is permanent and can never be change.

• Y/N will always come back as the young abandoned orphan of Bruce Wayne, who was neglected and forgotten in favor of his other children.

• Resets can only happen when Y/N is literally killed, Y/N does not have the power to control it, if Y/N want to reset, you know what you have to do, that's the price you must pay.

• Life is precious and if you want to play with it, it'll cost you your own life and sanity.

• I headcannon that death already know about this but decided not to interfer, it's not like you're an actual immortal or anything, I guess you can say you're already punishing yourself by caging your fate in a loop hole.

• Going back to the backstories, everything is a bit blurry but will be revealed by flashbacks (That's what happens when you keep **** yourself).

• Y/N remembers their mother but not her face or voice, they remember moments with them but only the fleeting ones, their touch, the warm kiss on your forehead and the cold hands that touched your bloodied cheek before it drop to the ground.

• Y/N is born and raise as a Gothamite more so on the poorer parts of Gotham.

• It's a bit ironic that Y/N's backstory is almost the same as Bruce if not for a little difference in narrative, A young mother finally earnings extra money from work and took her kid out for some mother and child bonding as a request for their birthday but the night ended with a robber being a little trigger happy and shot the mother in an alleyway grabbing all her money and possesions while leaving the traumatized child to watch their mother's life leave her body.

• Commissioner Gordon arrived at the scene and couldn't help but reminiscent a little wayne boy also sitting on the cold concrete floor of crime alley crying for his parents death years ago.

• Implied that in the next parts that Y/N will become mature and more far off than the other version of her.

• Y/N might be a kid again but they remembered some of their supposed 'ending' and in return gain more than enough trauma.

• It might be a little bit corny or too much but I want Y/N to be a little petty or hateful to the rest of the family in the upcoming interactions.

• Only acting nice and patient around the rest when you face them, they're detectives I know but how are they gonna find out when your fake acting doesn't really matter from the rest of their problems am I right?.

Lil tiny note : I want this fic have a lil angsty with some comedic stuff would that be alright?

That's all I got for now but if any of you guys want to add more traits for your own Y/N you guys can add it down.

Let's take 5!

I'll prepare for your next lines, ok?

〖 = ✧ = 〗

Do you guys want me to tag you on this stuff as well or just on the main story?

[blughxreader]

hi! i dont think i can ever get enough of yan! platonic! Batfam 🥲 can i get a neglected reader who has successfully escaped, only to come back to gotham by some unprecedented causes a few years later? i have plans to write a fic like this and want some inspiration (and to fill the yandere batfam tag)

Platonic Yandere!Bruce, Dick, Jason with a darling who escaped and returned to Gotham

Headcanons, WC: 1,048

Notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! This ask is five months old lol. I had to cut out the baby boys to finish </3 If I can come up with ideas for Damian and Tim then I'll add to it.

Bruce

The weight of Bruce’s mistakes hangs over his head every day, but his mistakes with you are by-far the heaviest.

He should have appreciated you more. He should have told you what you meant to him. Instead, he let you feel invisible. It kills him.

When you’re spotted in Gotham years later, he can hardly believe it.

He’ll drop everything and go straight to you, deploying all the boys to ensure you don’t slip away. If it’s daytime, Bruce Wayne will make a rare appearance and corner you with paparazzi, and if it’s nighttime, then Batman will swipe you off the streets before you can cry out.

He’ll forgive every outburst you give. You’re furious and he understands—he considers your anger entirely his fault so he’ll give you a lot of slack.

Bruce will drown you in gifts. Because Batman takes up so much time (and it was lack of attention that drove you away in the first place) he’ll try every means at demonstrating his love. Gifts, vacation homes, front row seats to events (with strict supervision).

This version of Bruce would keep you under 50 cameras and a body guard at all times, but he’s also very conscious of your mental health. Where he’d be able to guiltlessly lock you up forever if he hasn’t neglected you, he can’t in this timeline. Your life would be heavily supervised, but you’d also get a lot of perks.

He would make a routine with you.

Every morning, he’d eat breakfast with you, and every Friday would be a special dinner with just the two of you. His hours are valuable so it means a lot for him to carve out the time just for you.

Dick Grayson

Dick prides himself on his strong leadership and generosity. Ask anyone whose ever met Dick to describe him, and they could list pages of positive traits. So it's a wonder how you, his precious little darling, managed to be overlooked by him.

Guilt literally eats him alive. Dick begins to second-guess every interaction with you, going over all clues he might have missed. He throws himself into the investigation looking for you, investigating every single fact you've ever mentioned about yourself.

When you finally return, he's dead-set on making up for lost time.

Dick wouldn’t approve of your reasoning for leaving. You should have told him--should have insisted on being heard--instead of leaving. He feels terrible that you were neglected, but he feels worse knowing that you’d rather be thrown to the wolves than seek their help.

It's a steep learning curve for him to realize you're not the lonely child you once were, but instead a bitter, jaded young adult who confides in only themself.

Dick drowns you in attention. He tries forcing your innocence back, not accepting your refusals and anger. You're still so young, and even if the sparkling child-like hope is missing from your eyes, Dick still believes he can make things right.

Family bonding time is a must. He arranges play-time with you and Damian. He insists on Sunday movie nights. He learns how to cook new dishes with you and Alfred. He will keep you busy.

These activities are only a surface solution for a deeper problem. Fundamentally, you've changed, and Dick knows this. He has no idea how to treat you now, so he resorts to what he does know--your childhood he missed out on.

Jason Todd

Jason is particularly torn. He knows what its like to feel abandoned, yet he realized too late that he was the perpetrator.

When you are finally back in the arms of the Batfamily, Jason has no idea what role to take in your life. He sees you turning down the family when they offer love and he doesn't know if his heart could take your rejection.

Jason is stand-offish. Playing the role of "tough older brother" doesn't bode well, so he needs time to rework his philosophy on handling siblings.

Instead, he does your bidding. He would help fix whatever unprecedented reasons that led you to return to Gotham, no questions asked. If you need to pass a letter on to a friend, Jason is your guy. His regular possessive yandere tendencies are hampered by his guilt, so he'll be very lenient with you as long as it's nothing dangerous.

The fact that you escape and survived by yourself cast you into a new light in Jason’s eyes. He thinks you’re impressive, dependable, capable. He wonders how he didn’t see it sooner.

That being said—you’re his little sibling. You shouldn’t have to be so strong, and Jason wants to ensure you’ll never have another reason to protect yourself.

He hopes that over time, you'll trust him. He wants to be able to sit with you and talk about whatever is on your mind, to be able to hug you as he leaves for work, and to send you off to bed when it's late.

But right now, you need space. He'll let you heal, and he'll take whatever anger you give him. Because he knows that this is the only way you'll let him into your life again.

Bonus: Y/N

Considering Y/N was clever enough to escape the Waynes while also having the willpower to return to Gotham shows that they’re intelligent, good-hearted, and forged from steel.

They probably rank somewhere between lawful-good to chaotic-neutral. (A lawful-neutral would be infuriated by the Waynes’ underhanded tactics, and probably wouldn’t return to Gotham.)

Y/N is done yearning for attention (or, if they were originally kidnapped, done with playing nice), so they’re immune to the Batfam’s manipulation.

Upon first glance at the Batfam after all those years, they’d immediately go fight or flight. Y/N would pull every dirty trick in the book to escape, and would be as hateful as possible to kill any affection they have for them.

After being kidnapped, Y/N gets very good at playing mind games and deflecting their submission tactics. They’d be able to manipulate the household like a giant game of chess.

Y/N’s only weakness is the child inside of them that still cries for their family’s approval.

The conflict revolves around how the Batfam can extort this weakness vs. how well Y/N can stay true to their values.

[jaytodd1129]

It's literally killing me that there's nothing on the Malcolm Reynolds & Simon Tam, Father-Son tags on AO3. BUT IT'S SUCH FERTILE LAND FOR FIC TO GROW THO!!

Are you TELLING me nobody else has unresolved daddy issues you'd like to work out through Simon being the stubborn but brilliant, overanalyzing, neurotic gotta-be-10-steps-ahead-cause-nobody-gives-a-shit-about-us doctor of the crew that is always on survival mode cause he quite LITERALLY was abandoned by his own father in his greatest moment of need? And not only that, REMEMBER WHEN JAYNE DOUBLE CROSSED HIM AND RIVER IN ARIEL?? and we all expected him to go bezerk or at least look betrayed?? But instead he was all cool calm and collected and YES that is in part because of his work ethic and because of Who He Is As A Person (not a person that abuses his position of power over someone more vulnerable).. but... what if it's also because.. he never expected anything different? Like.. just think about it. If his own DAD doesn't give a shit about him and River...who would? So maybe that's just him being kind of resigned too?? To something he accepted long ago. He doesn't have any of Mal's outrage, he doesn't have his ire, because unlike Mal, he never expected anything different.

Maybe that's also why he's unable to effectively bond with Kaylee despite having feelings for her. Cause it's been him and River against the world for so long in his mind, that every time his feelings try to cross that line towards Trust Territory, alarm bell start ringing in his head.

This is obviously gonna lead to Simon and Mal to butt heads because as Mal is captain of the ship, his position demands--you guessed it!-- TRUST from his crew. Trust that he'll lead the way somewhere safe, trust that he'll look after everyone with his decisions. And Simon..well he just can't do that (there's too much at stake).

And at first it just drives Mal crazy to the point he probably kicks the siblings to the curve a couple of times (like we saw in Firefly, like we saw in Serenity) not out of cruelty, but because he's never been one to keep someone who doesn't want to be kept (just ask Inara).

Speaking of Inara, maybe she's the voice of reason (as she tends to be) that eventually makes Mal see beyond Simon's insubordination, and see that he's not trying to be difficult, deep down he's just a kid, scared shitless, all alone in the world. But..he's not, says Mal. Sometimes that's just hard to feel for some people, shrugs Inara. At first, Malcolm protests against this like, I have too many responsabilities looking after this ship to care for the doctor's precious feelings, too! Inara throws her hands in the air like, This is why nobody ever talks to you about these things! Mal is offended at the implication that ANYONE in his crew keeps things from him, he squawks WHat things?!?..and it turns into the Mal&Inara regular show.

But it plants a SEED in Mal's head, see, and now every time Simon objects against something being done, instead of seeing some churlish display of disobedience, he sees the anxiety, the undercurrent of fear that is there.

Maybe he goes to Simon's quarters at one point and realizes he's hardly unpacked and he's like...shit. it's worse than I thought.

Feral Simon with daddy issues and an attachment disorder is what I want!!

[hutahuta]

I SAW PAVIA AND STARTED SPRINTING, THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE

Maybe some headcannons about a protective Pavia? I mean, being a mercenary probably has gotten him some (read as a lot) of enemies, especially considering he’s good at his job! So it wouldn’t be a surprise if his partner got targeted as a way of getting to him. Obviously, Pavia’s not gonna let that happen, not by a long shot. Maybe hurt/comfort in a way? And gender neutral if it’s okay!

P.AGE OO.2 — 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

thank you for requesting, i hope you like this <333 ( •̀∀•́ )ﾗ✧ !

Unfortunately for him, Pavia bore the scars of a life that was etched by loss and fleeting connections. No human ever got as close as you did with him, so it was important to protect such things. Yes?

His heart encased in solid steel and armour, found solace in the comfort of your arms. Yes, this man was laid back most of the time, but under that thick smile of purity and hearty laughs, he wanted to keep you forever as his own.

Embellished in jewels and tied and restrained for himself. Guarded by his sole bonds of his canine family, he couldn't possibly think of letting you be exposed to the outside danger out there.

Every beat of his heart echoed with the lingering memories of his past separations. His bond broken with his family and his scarred nature of a relationship broken down with his aunt. He doesn't know how to handle such things, he wasn't taught proper coping mechanisms.

You, vulnerable to attacks, not necessarily naive but still innocent as a feather; are more susceptible to violence catered by Pavia's enemies surrounding him on a day-to-day basis..

And—,, the thought maliciously stabs him every single time. To see you lying in your own warm, pool of blood. He hated the sight, and vowed to always keep you with him, safe and sound even if it meant his own skin will be torn apart. Pavia, originally, had nothing left to lose. He had nothing to go down with. His legacy was scarred with the torment of his past. His family had no connections with him whatsoever, and he planned to keep it that way.

This fear, an indelible mark left by the merciless hands of fate, propelled Pavia to assume the role of a vigilant guardian. He shielded his beloved with unwavering determination, an impassable fortress erected to defy the encroaching shadows of abandonment.

Skeletal hands trace the outline of your jawline towards the base of your neck, leaving lingering touches that'll never fade away for months to come. You'll always remember how he told you.

` Non allontanarti troppo dal mio cammino.. Amore. `

Which meant, ' Don't stray too far from my path, love. ' His hands firmly gripped your waist, leaving soft kisses that marked the vow of his undying love for you.

He shudders to think of your figure being manhandled by someone who would bruise such tender skin of yours, to discard your love and treat you like nothing but a used rug. You're nothing of the sort, to him.

Precious diamonds and jewels like you need to be treasured, kept under someone's eyes like Pavia's. Right?

It's conflicting, to say the least. You'd wonder why he's so protective when it's mixed with such a lazed stare. A laid-back figure who offers you juice and drinks at parties and festivals. But he isn't stupid enough to let you wander too far. Just think what could happen-

Someone kidnaps you, holds you for ransom? Knowing Pavia, he's smart enough to go along with such plans then storm into the area himself and take you back. Leaving only the echoes of men screaming, bodies thudding against the floor as they get a bullet launched into their skulls.

That won't happen though, right? He's not stupid enough to let you go like that..

Pavia struggles to keep himself from being too overprotective to the point you feel suffocated, to being too laid-back that it makes him seem uncaring and unloving. He wants to let you go do your own thing, after all.. that's why he loves you, right? That's why he fell in love with you.

But it pains him to think that now you've officially established something deep with him, he could be at fault for your uneasy, incoming death. You're at heavy risk if you step too close to the edge of his outside perimeter.. That's why-

You stay with him. Right beside him.

Excuse him when he pulls you closer by his waist when near enormous crowds and traffic during festivities.

Don't mind his behaviour as he trails a hand down your thigh to subtly mark to others that you have not one, not two, not even three, but a whole family of dogs watching over your guard.

You have eyes on you 24/7. Don't forget that. Now you're with him, it's important you try to manage your way through this skilfully with the intent to have the best possible outcome with your protective little man.

Safe to say, he won't let anything bad happen as I stated previously. Just as long as you follow the rules he gave. It's his way of trying to tell you that he has boundaries and he wants you to stick with him almost every time both of you are out.

His protective stance wasn’t fueled by dominance but rather by a desperation to defy the cruel whims of destiny, to safeguard the one person who illuminated the shadows of his tumultuous existence. In their presence, Pavia found a fragile haven, one he fiercely guarded against the specter of loss that loomed ominously over his turbulent life.

As you know, despite Pavia’s instinctive urge to shield you, he wrestled with the awareness that his protective demeanor might eventually suffocate the relationship. To counterbalance his guarded nature, Pavia embarked on a path of intentional vulnerability, striving to open up the vault of his emotions..

He tends to be honest with you then and there, but often finds himself leading the conversation into something else more uplifting. All in his worries that you might see him as him trying to justify his actions, which is possibly why he cannot exactly open up fully. That, and he just can't help but talk about other stuff mid-sentence. Learning more about you, your boundaries, your silly interests is just.. more of a reason to keep you safe.

He doesn't know communication skills all that well. But he takes it on after you, so guide him properly and heal those scars that may linger for a life time.

But if you stick around, he's sure to let go of the tension on his shoulders a few times and enjoy quality time with you without the doubt you'd potentially get harmed in the process of your relationship. <3

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

Sephiroth x Reader Made for You

This was not at all what it was originally supposed to be, original description is at the very end.

New Description: Sephiroth x Reader. Ever Crisis-Crisis Core-ish (Pre-Nibelheim) timeline. 5.9k words. In which you were created to be Sephiroth’s perfect mate. Warnings?: Mentions of alcohol abuse, miscarriages and Hojo’s clammy hands all over you(not like that). Hojo meant for you to serve as a breeding ground to create more perfect subjects. His plans get disrupted as your mother doesn’t have the heart to subject you to more trauma{trauma enters stage left as intense as possible} . In a panic she abandons you in hope that Shinra won’t be able to track you down. Eventually you cross paths with Sephiroth, creating a bond that would last a lifetime. Written in a series of headcanons, I’ll probably re-use reader backstory in other fics but i didn’t want to write this as a full out fic. It is definitely up in the air as to what happens to your mother, let's hope she will won’t be found she deserves death, i don't care if she tried to make it right. No, the dad is not Hojo. The age ranges helped me track what I was typing but I don't think I'll take it away. I’d say probably a year or so older than Sephiroth. Will make a part two for the events following Genesis’ departure-FF7 possibly through Advent Children too.

_________________________________________

Age 1:

 Your mother, Levy, came to her senses shortly after giving birth to you. Taking off in the dead of night to hide her precious child from the cruel clutches of Professor Hojo. When she signed up for this project she didn’t fully realize what she would be submitting herself to, the kind of torment she’d relinquish a baby to, her baby to. She wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt knowing that she gave you the worst possible future. So in a desperate attempt to “set things right” she abandons Shinra, leaving Midgar and taking you to Corel.

Levy knows she can’t stay with you, she’d be far too easy to track down. Besides, Hojo would never let one of his prized experiments get very far. Certainly he wouldn’t want Levy to get away, not after trying to ruin such a delicate process. There are consequences to these actions and everyone gets caught eventually. She needs to make this quick. It's already been two weeks since the two of you escaped, knowing that she doesn’t have the resources or connections to stay hidden for very long sends her into even more of a panicked state.  

All things considered, the decisions she made were already questionable, so it was no surprise that Levy’s poor choices led her to handing you off to some random stranger who reeked of liquor. Granted, he might have been absolutely shitfaced but he did at least seem to have a warm spirit. That was the last time she ever saw you, hugging you tightly and kissing you on the forehead before venturing on to the next unknown location.

The day Levy dropped you off to the strange man was a turning point for your “adoptive father”, Kaiser. Previously he was a drunk with a gambling problem, only picking up odd jobs to fuel his addictions. While he heavily considered taking you to the nearest clinic and dropping you off, another part of him thought the lifestream brought this child to him for a reason. That maybe now his life had purpose again, that maybe if he could do some strange lady a favor that it might atone for the things he’s previously done.

Age 4:

 Kaiser started to pick up his bad habits again, losing every job he’d obtained due to showing up drunk; not showing up at all because he was out gambling all of his funds away, or the icing on the cake that led to his inability to find another job in Corel, stealing. In such a small town word got around fast, yet people still went out of their way to give him a chance, more so for your sake, not Kaiser’s. The townspeople could only be sympathetic to an extent, eventually not being considered for hire by anyone. Following these events led him searching for work outside of Corel, branching out to Midgar where he got a job doing residential plumbing. 

Age 4-10:

It was enough to make ends meet, renting out a single bedroom in the slums of sector 5. Not the most ideal or comfortable living situation but it was better than being on the streets. The move to Midgar at least showed positive signs in your father, but that would only last for so long. He was always still loving towards you, though at times it was hard to tell how much he truly cherished you since he seemed more interested in trying to maintain both lifestyles when he should’ve picked you above all. It was when he discovered Wall Market his presence dwindled down to a minimum. Still claiming that you saved his life and all of that other nonsense while leaving you to fend for your own in the same breath.

Age 10-12:

 Eventually you started leaving home alone, beginning to venture out and wander the slums. After a certain point you couldn’t sit around waiting for Kaiser to feed you, never knowing what he would come back to take care of or even tell you he loves you. This existence was so painfully lonely. Without much direction in life thus far you started getting involved with a group of fellow misguided children. Learning how to break into homes, shops, showing you how to pickpocket people; life was hard enough in itself, these few skills (if you wanna call it that) helped you get by. Despite Kaiser still being around you had to start getting funds on your own, especially when you learned property owners had zero problem throwing a child out on the streets no matter your situation. 

You and your tightknit group of baby thugs manage to bring your string of break ins to the upper plate, securing passes to the top for the oldest of the group (18-20) and the younger of the group would act like they were with an older sibling, negating the need for passes as they were minors. Picking a different plate to explore each time you went up and stole whatever you found valuable or simply wanted out of greed as long as you could discreetly bring it back. Roaming Sector 2 may have been your biggest mistake. Quickly stuffing the tools from a car you broke into your bag, slamming the trunk shut and taking off as fast as possible. It was already a risky area to break into cars at, the spot you chose happened to be a bit too out in the open, you just had a hunch something good would be in the vehicle. All but running around the corner to distance yourself from your crime you bump into someone making you fall right on your ass. 

Twelve years. He’s been looking for you for twelve long years with practically no traces, yet here you were. Had Hojo told Heidegger no at the notion of going out to lunch together you wouldn’t have been sprawled out on the ground in front of him. The minute you locked eyes with the strange man, a menacing smirk spread across his features. Hojo’s nice words betraying his true intention and twisted glee, looking into those e/c glowing eyes Hojo knew you belonged to him. Reaching a hand out to help you up, apologizing for being “clumsy”, asking where your parents are, his grin never leaving his face. Not taking the time to talk to him, you mumble a quick thanks for helping you up, immediately darting off to find the others, a bit shook at the thought of nearly being caught. Surely you had been caught, just not in the way you thought. 

Despite being, in Hojo’s eyes, inadequate due to his lack of presence in your life, you were still valuable. You were another product of the Jenova Project, not quite to serve the same purpose as the First Class SOLDIERS, though you could have been just as strong. He’s missed too many monumental milestones in your growth to achieve similar results as Sephiroth. However, that isn’t going to stop him from trying in combination with ensuring you’re capable of achieving your original use. It won’t be hard for him to track you now, he knows what you look like and where you’ve been. The city is riddled in surveillance and Hojo will see to it you are found, sending out several Turks to monitor you, requesting they take various items from the shared home of you and Kaiser that would contain any traces of your DNA. 

It didn’t take long for Hojo to prove who you were and that you were Shinra property, he was already certain of it after your first interaction. In the short time you were in Hojo’s presence one of the first things he did was take many samples from you. Even without the DNA Hojo had he would be able to find out your identity. Simply drawing your blood would have sufficed but he was forced to go about taking you back in a more “tame” manner. The minute the samples matched he sent the Turks in to snatch you up and bring you in, demanding Kaiser be brought with them. 

Age 12-15: 

Hojo didn’t make it a secret where you came from, telling you early on that you have always been Shinra property, claiming this was your real home. Over time Hojo somehow convinced you this life was better than the life you lived in the slums as well as any of the time you spent with Kaiser. Honestly, it was hard for you to tell as neither lifestyle proved to be healthy. At least you had regular meals and a guaranteed roof over your head, regardless of it being a creepy cold lab, but you were once again back to being alone but now all of the time. Never allowed to interact with anyone, your only company was Hojo, if that could count. Rarely talking to you outside of questioning you in relation to testing or attempting to cram as much knowledge into your brain as possible. Also sharing interactions with the couple of Turks he allowed to train you, Hojo oversaw each training session, cutting off any conversation he felt didn’t assist in your progression. Which were certainly most of them.

An absolute fucking nightmare. Being subjected to Hojo’s experiments was, now, the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, you thought life was challenging before but currently this is a special kind of hell. Being left in mako tanks for weeks on end because you “need to catch up”, being kept awake for the majority of your surgical experiments unless it was really necessary. Forced to repeatedly kill in order to prove your worth, doing things you couldn't imagine just in the hopes to save a “father” they’ve already killed. You don’t know this information, the leverage you think they have against you makes you more inclined to go along with their plans. 

Hojo learned the hard way that your abilities to heal like the others were extremely lacking. On this particular day Hojo was, once again, invading your body. Not so much to alter anything, but taking notes on significant changes from past surgeries and experiments, as well as testing new equipment. He wouldn’t admit it due to his “singular genius” but the machine he created to assist in speeding up surgical processes malfunctioned. In turn severely damaging numerous organs and causing excessive bleeding. While, no, just any organs won’t do, he’s going to piece you together as fast as he can. Refusing to let you go after seeking you out all of this time. Your potential is too great. Quickly pulling out a few cadavers that were failures from the Jenova Project, but due to the genetic makeup, their parts will have to do. Smiling as he pieced you back together, taking organs from the other bodies and replacing your damaged parts.

Something about killing you, reviving you, and nursing you back to health brought you and Hojo closer to each other. Having a portion of his lab reconstructed into a small living quarters so you could be more comfortable while you got better. Between all of his other experiments, you, plus Sephiroth, Hojo found it convenient to spend a lot of time in your space. Partially due to his constant need to take care of you after that last incident, Hojo's day would often end with you. Swooping by to change any bandages, check vitals, asking the usual to help assess your health. You’re not sure what made you reach out to him, or why he surprisingly extended his hand out to you. It came to a point the nightmares were just too much, the nightmares Hojo instilled in you. In spite of all signs telling you to run from him, your skin crawling when you think about Hojo, you still wanted his comfort. Requesting that he stays with you for the night, telling him you were too scared to fall asleep because of the things you’ll see. Hojo rolls his eyes and scoffs at this, nevertheless he settles himself into your quarters. Crawling into your bed just as you wanted, finding himself annoyed by the display of weakness, yet a foreign warmness crept into Hojo’s chest. It was uncomfortable, it was weak, it was welcoming. The smallest smile of content cracking through Hojo as you crawl on him, resting your head on his chest. Bringing one of his arms to wrap around you snuggly. While no, you weren’t his kid, you brought out this almost fatherly sensation out of him.

You would never get permission to leave his lab, being able to occasionally roam about as he monitored your actions. If for once he was strictly doing paperwork related tasks he would allow you out as well, still keeping a close eye on you. Often finding yourself standing in front of pods of lifeless beings, half wondering if you’d end up like them; the other half curious as to what they are, or rather what Hojo did to make them what they are. Eventually you can’t help but question him on some of these things as he takes you back to your portion of the lab. Many times he ignores your questioning, knowing the complexities of each creature would be too much for you to understand, not hesitating to let you know. Eventually your constant questioning led to another connection the two of you developed, starting to take the time to explain some of the creatures, even providing you his research from a few of them. To Hojo’s surprise you caught on impressively fast, here he was thinking you weren’t the most competent finding himself able to have full conversations with you about projects he felt he was permitted to talk about with you. 

Age 15-17

Hojo finally started integrating back into the real world. Allowing you to go on missions with the Turk members who've been training you. Leaving that lab had been viewed as a form of freedom in their eyes, accepting taking you on assignments willingly. Not without a sense of guilt as some of your actions would shape the person you would become, feeling like you were too young to experience such events. Granted, you’ve already been through hell, you just dish it out now definitely still being tormented. Your success rate consistently being 100% never failed to get you praise from Hojo, uttering some nonsense about getting closer and closer to his goal with you. Not that he’d ever tell you what you were really used for outside of “genetic testing”. Well, it isn’t a total lie afterall, you were a walking, talking genetic nightmare and Hojo was the only person that would ever understand what makes you tick.

Meeting Sephiroth was entirely planned on Hojo’s behalf, keeping the two of you out of sight from one another as you grew up. It was simply better to go about introducing the two of you this way. Sending the two of you off on a mission with a few other SOLDIER members to eliminate a former Shirna employee who took off with some very valuable materia. Upon seeing Sephiroth you almost couldn’t contain your glee, finally meeting someone your own age for the first time in four years. The trip to Modeoheim provided a fairly interesting conversation between you and Sephiroth. The look of surprise written all over his face as your words hint at you growing up with Hojo as well. Once Sephiroth pieced it together he was a bit confused, frowning at his own question, “I’ve been there my whole life, why haven’t I seen you before?” You’re aware of what you should and shouldn’t talk about, vaguely going into detail about the small amount of time you remembered in Corel and your life in Midgar but not quite how you were brought to Shinra. Revealing you never knew your parents and having an adoptive father who “vanished” according to Hojo’s words accompanied in building a bridge between yourself and Sephiroth. The two of you could heavily relate to each other, even being able to make dark jokes about the weird things Hojo has subjected you to. That gets a lot of worried glances from everyone around, but nobody is going to speak on it. Following this successful mission you and Sephiroth have the joy of working together on three other occasions before you don’t see him for years.

Age 18-23

Hojo had no intentions on letting you be a part of SOLDIER directly, stating that it would be a waste of resources, making it clear that wasn’t what you were trained for nor born for. As time passes on Rufus decides to make you an official member of the Turks with Hojo’s permission. You’ve taken on missions from them as is; working hand and hand with Tseng many times in which you gained his approval as well. Rufus wanted Tseng to retrain you personally, your skills already being a cut above the rest. However, Rufus wasn’t present for a majority of your original training. No worries though, Tseng is going to help you brush up those already near perfect skills. Making sure your physical training was consistently up to date and your wits were as sharp as ever. The mental training with Tseng was far more grueling than the physical training, taking you through espionage-esque simulations that could last for weeks. He had to be positive that your critical thinking and adaptability were to his liking. Not to mention making sure you were capable of making difficult and immoral decisions at the blink of an eye with no hesitation. Gaia, when the objective was to outsmart Tseng you’ve hardly passed. An accomplishment that’s a near impossible hard feat to achieve, after attempt after attempt he finally gave you a pass. Though you can’t call it a win, not when Tseng told you “Not good enough to trick me, but a mass of the population wouldn’t pick up on it.” In the end Tseng turned you into what he would consider a perfect Turk, well near perfect. The duo of Reno and Rude would certainly taint your more serious demeanor, teaching you how to properly slack off and to time inappropriate jokes so you could grate at Tseng’s nerves. Even coming up with your own Turk-Two Step for each one of the iconic duo. Joining the Turks was like joining a family, a really fucked up one that carried out a lot of unethical tasks together, but a family nevertheless. 

Once you became a Turk you finally moved out of Hojo’s lab, getting your first apartment. You would still be residing in the Shinra building, instead on a residential floor. You seemed to be loyal to the company, either it stemming from a genuine place or the knowledge that there is no escaping Shinra. Being as deeply involved as you were, it isn't like they’d let you go easily  and you had nowhere to run off to. Shinra really was all you had. So letting you venture out on your own just didn’t seem like it would be problematic. Besides, who else would take care of you except for Hojo, he was probably the only person on the planet that could. As sickly as you could be, it would be foolish to stay away from him, common medical practices wouldn’t be of any use. Which is fine by you, the connection you developed with Hojo is still strong. It was an odd relationship but you cared for him in a fatherly sense. Hojo was far from being an actual father figure but when you squint your eyes and tilt your head it made sense. Seeing that he took care of you for so long, teaching you practically everything you know, showing you in his own twisted way that he cares for you. You still go in for regular testing, sometimes extra experiments if Hojo wants to try something new. These days the extra “modifications” would be made less and less. To make up for your lack of presence in Hojo’s lab you make it your job to pop up as often as possible, interrupting his research unless he was working on something live. 

One of the days you pay Hojo a visit, you find Sephiroth sitting on an examination table, shirtless as Hojo checks his vitals. If it weren’t for a few obvious factors you wouldn’t have recognized him. He’s grown a lot since you worked together 5 years ago. Tall, muscular and his hair had grown an ungodly amount. You had seen pictures around but that was nothing compared to physically seeing him. Quickly turning your gaze towards Hojo, giving him a hug before swiftly greeting Sephiroth and rushing out the door. Attraction was certainly a foreign experience, not having anywhere near enough time to dabble in dating or any relations that would fall under that category. To Hojo’s delight Sephiroth would ask if he knew where to find you and without hesitation he gave Sephiroth your floor and residential number. By all means, Hojo already retrieved the necessary means to reproduce between the two of you. He would much rather this process occur naturally, carrying the child yourself would very well give different results. He’d love to compare the difference between a child naturally conceived between you and Sephiroth and a test tube version.

It didn’t take very long for Sephiroth to come looking for you thinking that perhaps he may be going a step too far coming to your home. He simply couldn’t stop thinking about you, one of the only people he felt he could relate to on an entirely different level. A part of him viewing the small amount of time the two of you spent together as unfair, he deserved to be showered in more of your presence. You left Hojo's lab with such haste that he could barely catch a glimpse of you. So here Sephiroth stands, in front of your door staring at it like it might attack him. Ah, he forgot he was completely socially inept, being positive that he’s never felt this type of fear even on the battlefield. It’s okay, he’ll be spared a bit of the anxiety that came with knocking on your door as you sneak up behind him. Staring at your front door with the same amount of curiosity before questioning him, “Is there something wrong with it?” The look on his face said it all. Shock, embarrassment, you could practically feel the tension rolling off of this man. There was no denying the small smile tugging at Sephiroth’s lips as you asked if he found what he was looking for, telling you that he “certainly did”. Now that you were up close you couldn’t help but examine him, asking yourself if you were sure this was the same man from your first missions. A few moments of silently looking each other over passes before inviting him in with you. The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a bit before you take charge of conversation to ease his obviously wary mind. Guiding him through conversation seemed to fair far better, he had always been a bit awkward but dare you say it got worse. Not that it bothers you, it’s adorable watching the world’s strongest man trip over his words while talking to you. By the time he left it was nearing 1am, promising to come back, hugging you tightly before he departed. You could feel him stiffen as he hugged you, but the rapid beating of his heart told you everything.

Over the course of the next couple of years, your relationship with Sephiroth would strengthen. With Sephiroth finally being sent back to Midgar you were able to see him more and more. Of course he was still busy with his role in SOLDIER, but he made sure to make an open slot for you any chance he got. There was never quite a verbal discussion as to where your relationship was going, neither one of you knowing how to go about initiating a relationship normally. Your unspoken loyalty to each other was clear though, he was yours and you were, without a doubt, his. At some point Sephiroth starts getting you out of the Shinra building if your schedules align for it, he’s tired of seeing Shinra walls and thinks you should be too. Taking you to restaurants Angeal and Genesis would suggest he take you to, sometimes wandering the streets in the dead of the night, away from prying eyes. It took a lot of adjusting to how much attention Sephiroth would draw on your outings, jokingly offering to “take care of them”. There had to be a balance of course, you couldn’t be in the public light very much as a Turk, so having your face plastered everywhere as Sephiroth’s significant other wouldn’t do. That worked out in both of your favors, never caring to be in such a crowded scene. You would start spending nights at his place; whether it was due to Sephiroth or being outside of Shinra walls, easily could’ve been the combination of both, you could finally sleep easily. Falling into routine (Sephiroth’s subtle ways of begging for attention) at some point you abandon your apartment, only stopping there if work keeps you over too long or to grab any items you need along the way.

Being sent on missions became difficult for you, it wasn’t due to any difficulty spikes. You were more than capable of handling any tasks they sent your way, it was the distracting thoughts and incomplete sensation you got when Sephiroth wasn’t by your side. Finding it hard to fall asleep on missions just as the time you first began venturing out into the world. It was even worse when you would come back to Sephiroth being deployed on a mission. Though you missed each other dearly the distance would never come between each other, in fact the two of you were certain nothing would. You were made for him, something he tells you often, unknowing the true depth of his words. There were at least perks to being away from him for extended periods of time. The way Sephiroth would take care of you after a mission was unmatched. No, he couldn’t cook, making him stay far away from the kitchen after his first time making you a meal (you got food poisoning and it tasted exactly like military rations). However, he would do sweet things if time allowed, like having flowers waiting for you, running baths, giving you massages to help soothe your aching muscles after a rather rough time on the field, not to mention the sex. And boy, did he have a list of kinks. The longer you were away would at times dictate how intense he would fuck you when you got back. Amongst all things he was there for you after all of your missions, not all of them made you feel guilty enough to cause much turmoil. But as we know, you work doing Shinra’s dirty work, and at times the things you had to do to keep Shinra in good lighting were downright atrocious. Sephiroth being able to thoroughly understand your mental state after particular missions helped in comforting, while you were unable to talk about most events that occurred during missions, you didn’t have to. He has you and he’s going to hold you until you stop crying, just as you do for him when Sephiroth’s guilt tears him to shreds.

Discovering you were pregnant had to be the second most terrifying event in your life. Finding Sephiroth sitting at the dining room table reading, you break the news to him, not feeling keen on hiding anything from him. Sephiroth borderline passed out at the news but he was happy “You don’t seem to reciprocate the feeling, is this not what you wanted with me?” Sephiroth has said in the past he wanted a family of his own, expressing his desire to create a healthy environment, to be a parent to his offspring. He just wants to give his child the life he wanted so dearly. God’s it certainly was, but it wasn’t at the same time, explaining how reliant you are on Hojo due to your health. A reminder that nearly causes him to flip the table over, this was probably the loudest you ever heard him get angrily shouting that he “doesn’t want that monster anywhere near my child!” Watching the emotional breakdown he had as fear crept in, he might not have a choice but to let you deal with Hojo for the duration of your pregnancy. In addition to the chance Sephiroth may even have no choice other than to let that “sick fuck”  run tests on them, easily became one of the most heartbreaking sights. Holding him tightly you dually decide to keep it under wraps as long as you can, knowing it couldn’t last long as you have regular checkups just as Sephiroth does.

Hojo can sense something isn’t right, your lack of presence makes that part obvious. Coupled with you avoiding appointments the last 4 months, coming up with some work related excuse that he knew was bullshit. He gets access to everything you do, everywhere you go, he could damn near tell you what the last batch of paperwork you signed for Tseng entailed word for word. Once again giving your cellphone a call knowing today was an off day for you, letting out a frustrated sigh as you let it go to voicemail. He has time today, he’s going to call until you answer the damn thing. Even stopping by your apartment, by now he knows you’re rarely there. Often spending your time at Sephiroth’s loft, showing up there was a thought but he had a hunch your lack of attendance had something to do with Sephiroth. Sephiroth probably wouldn’t answer the door for him or lie about your whereabouts. During his walk back to his lab Hojo is pleasantly surprised to see your name show up on the screen of his phone, immediately asking why you haven’t showed up to any appointments. Hojo was well on his way to lecturing you about how fragile and unpredictable your health could be before being cut off by Sephiroth's worried voice. He was speaking in a jumbled mess, being able to make out bits of what Sephiroth was saying as he was talking a million miles per second. At Sephiroth’s explanation, if you could call it that, Hojo tells him to bring you in. Hearing the hesitance in Sephiroth’s reply Hojo utters out coldly “or would you rather y/n bleed out?”

Upon running an ultrasound Hojo determines you were roughly four months in. “Four months in with no heartbeat.” Anger was an absolute understatement, due to you and Sephiroth’s combined stupidity killing a perfectly good specimen. Hojo’s concern hardly lied with you, but he was going to act the part so well it had Sephiroth questioning himself as to why Hojo never shared that same amount of care. The very moment Hojo was done cleaning you up and checking your vitals once more, he asks to speak to Sephiroth in private as they let you rest. Hojo would use this moment to gaslight Sephiroth to no end, directing all of his aggression at the silver haired man as soon as were far enough from your room. Venom laced Hojo’s tone as he asked what the two of you were thinking. Sephiroth had no problem stating his distaste for Hojo, in great detail, furiously stating that Hojo wouldn’t “fuck up my kid as you did me.”  In Hojo’s mind he was throwing an absolute fit. There were no words to describe the fury coursing through his veins at Sephiroth’s words. “If I’m hearing you correctly, your reasoning is because you are scared of me?” That was the straw to break the camel’s back, Sephiroth snatching Hojo by his coat, shoving him against the wall so hard it leaves a dent. The action surprised them both. While Hojo wasn’t scared, he was taken aback. Hojo hardly had time to register Sephiroth’s movements as grabbed him up in a flash. Knowing Sephiroth wouldn’t go through with hurting him, Hojo continues his mental assault. Stating in a matter of fact way “Had you brought y/n to me the minute you knew, they both could have been fine, but now we’ll never know."  “Your paranoia led to their deaths.”  “And to think, y/n told you a long time ago they need me.” Making it very clear the amount of danger the two of you naively subjected your child Hojo’s creation and yourself to was reckless. “What were you going to do if they were sent on assignment?”  “Next time, show y/n you actually care, get them the help they require. Not everyone’s life operates on your terms.” After those words Sephiroth releases Hojo, defeated in a way he’s never felt before. Walking back to your recovery room, refusing to leave your side until you're cleared to go. 

Sephiroth wouldn’t sleep well for a while following these events, the guilt keeping him up for months. Not showing up to work, skipping meals, moping all of the time, notable of all Sephiroth’s refusal to leave your side. At times unable to cope, truly feeling as though the loss of your child and the risk your life was in was entirely his fault. Hojo’s words playing over and over again in his head like a broken record. Sephiroth never told you what Hojo said that night, he’s not even sure why he didn’t, mostly due to him believing everything Hojo said. He would break down from time to time about it, crying and apologizing profusely for all the pain he caused you, despite the million times you told Sephiroth he’s done nothing wrong. He would try his hardest to stay strong around you, knowing you would easily feel worse than him. You were the one pregnant afterall, the one to fully experience the impact of a miscarriage. Then why does it feel like he’s shedding more tears over this than you? It made his sense of guilt go through the roof. You definitely cried a lot after you lost your baby, falling into a depression, finding yourself not leaving Sephiroth’s arms for hours as you too sulked around. Despite Sephiroth feeling like he wasn’t supporting you enough, the reality was you both were a source of strength for each other and he too has a right to feel sadness. You would pick him back up, as he would do the same for you. Eventually falling back into old routines. Going on outings again, enjoying the night breeze, having spontaneous little date nights, or just spending your time in comfortable silence. Yeah, sometimes the pain would come back, it was hard not to dwell on it, but at least life felt normal between the two of you once more. Well, as normal as it could get with your lives. This peace would only last so long as Genesis deserts Shinra, leaving Sephiroth’s mental state to begin declining again. At least he had you and Angeal, not to mention the little baby growing in you again. Let’s just hope your pregnancy goes smooth this time and Genesis returns soon.

______________________________________________________________

Lollllll Christ I'm sorry I couldn't just let ya'll be happy but that's not how it's going. I'm kind of happy with the direction this went vs my original description which is...questionable at best. It's 5 am now so im gonna get some fuckin sleep

Original description: NSFW? But not really NSFW? Warning might change I dunno yet. Hojo x Reader headcanons. Sick little freaky old bastard I have no idea why I love him. I’d real deal take that dick for some SOLDIER juice. I prefer the idea of Hojo rejecting me though, makes me feel good and desperate. Warnings: idk this sounds like grooming but unintentional. I still want arranged breeding with Sephiroth. This isn’t incest, halfway through my mind said “aye dawg the lines are kind of blurred here”, we don’t know who the father is but it won’t be Hojo cause if we were doing that with anyone, he is not the guy. 

[tragedybunny]

Slow Dancing In a Burning Room - Chapter 3

༺Summary༻

In a moment of weakness, Serafina helped Astarion ascend, forever altering him and their relationship. Irrevocably bonded in violence, can she survive life at his side, or will she be broken by the cycle of pain and terror.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav)

༺Warnings༻ Dubcon / Noncon elements , violence, toxic / abusive relationships

༺Word Count༻ 3057

༺Masterlist༻

༺A/N༻ I'm pretty happy with the way this one turned out! Hope you enjoy it.

Huge thanks to @leomonae for the fantastic beta work and for showing me the art of the semicolon.

Read on AO3

꧁༺Chapter 3 - Second, Thou Shalt Drink Blood as I Have Commanded ༻꧂

༺ Astarion brings Serafina a gift and the second of his rules is made clear to her.༻

How long Serafina had waited for Astarion to return, she couldn’t say. One day flowed into another, all of them soon becoming like one. The servants still came, to tend to her and their rooms, but they were always silent. The smell of living blood in their veins stirred the growing ache in her stomach, the feeling of emptiness. It never truly went away, even the Ascendant’s gifts couldn’t protect his spawn from that curse, but the denial of even a drop of animal blood turned the subtle burn into an inferno. And then the servants stopped coming, because Astarion knew, even in his absence, what was happening to her. Whatever he had planned, he wanted her hungry, and it seemed he didn’t want to risk her breaking before he was ready. 

Their rooms offered little entertainment to distract from the hunger. She could read from their private library, bathe, watch the streets of the Gate from her window, write letters to old companions – and wait for responses that had been increasingly sparse since they parted ways – but that was it. After a while, sleep became her favorite activity, her head too foggy for anything more involved. 

She spent unknown hours lying motionless among a sea of black silk sheets, staring at the tapestries and paintings that lined the walls: scenes Astarion’s defeat of Cazador, his ascension, the saving of Baldur’s Gate, and the day they claimed Szarr manor as their rightful home. And there she was, beside him through it all. His beloved. 

And then, the mental haze was erased in a moment when an envelope slid under her door one morning. “My Precious Treasure,” was written on it, in Astarion’s immaculate script. Despite the betrayal of her imprisonment, Serafina’s heart leapt. She’d known he wouldn’t abandon her entirely, but how long he would make her wait had been in question. Astarion had proven himself capable of the most stubborn grudge holding. 

Fingers hastily tore into it, yanking the letter free with ragged anticipation. The words adorning the parchment were a sliver of hope that she eagerly clung to. 

“Serafina, my beloved,

Tonight, I will come to you, and we will end this unpleasantness between us. Not having you in my arms every night has been a great suffering, but I know we will be stronger for this, our love deeper. Tonight I will come bearing a gift, and show you how strong my love for you is. 

Until then, my love,

Your Astarion”

Deep down, something within her recoiled at the happiness the words sparked. Something that remembered her past; something that had fought for her freedom, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Something that bristled at this gilded cage. 

How long had it been since the Netherbrain? Time was strange, as a vampire who spent most of her days in Astarion’s palace. Serafina tried to think back: it had undergone some of his grand renovation plans, and he had made two other spawn to assist with his aspirations among the city’s elite. Which suggested that it had been a few years, at least. 

Not that it mattered; she was where she had chosen to be. She had loved Astarion, and had tried to give him everything – for that matter, she loved him still. And he still loved her, Serafina knew, it was just… different, now. But even that too could change, the letter evidence he’d already begun to soften. 

With the new burst of energy brought by the letter and her anticipation of Astarion’s imminent return, the rest of the day was spent carefully readying herself. A bath with his favorite scents; hair left loose and flowing, so he could run his fingers through it. And a dress that was little more than a swath of crimson silk over the intimate parts of her body, to complete the image. The Ascendant’s consort; just the way he desired her. 

The sun was just setting when the door to the grand bedchamber opened. Her lord and lover entered; Sera had been seated in a plush chair near the fire, built up to blazing despite the warm weather with her body so cold from lack of blood these days, but a sharp burst of warmth shot through her at the sight of him. Dressed in black silk with fine gold embroidered details, Astarion looked more than regal: he looked divine. 

Serafina rose to greet him; the corners of her lips curled up into a smile. 

“My darling,” he purred, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply. “I’ve missed you so, my love.” 

“I was here, but you-” she started to protest; he gently placed a finger to her lips. 

“Shh, we can talk about all of that later. Let me give you your gift first.” 

Serafina nodded; there was nothing to be gained from spoiling his soft mood.

Arm still hooked around her waist, Astarion turned them both toward the door. “Enter, Navril.” 

Sera tensed against Astarion as a beautiful young elven man entered. Red hair cascaded down his back; his eyes were like liquid gold, as he gazed at Astarion with the besotted look she’d seen in others so often before. His sun-kissed skin glowed with the blush of life; he was vibrant and warm, and each beat of his heart sent a feast of blood pulsing through his veins. 

Her stomach clenched; she tried not to start salivating. 

“Command me, my lord,” Navril said, his voice airy and musical.

Rather than replying, Astarion looked over to Serafina, then nodded her over towards the young man.  A gift, he had said.

“What am I to do with him?” Serafina’s eyes dropped to the floor as she spoke; she could almost hear that blood singing to her. 

Astarion chuckled. “Let him pleasure you – well, us – of course.” 

A sharpened fang dug into her lip; she was so hungry. But doing what Astarion wanted would please him, and make their reunion easier. She could ask him for blood afterwards. And anyway, this wasn’t the first playmate he’d dragged to their bed. The first had been a plump little blonde human he’d tried to keep as a spawn. She’d met a stake one night in the castle gardens, when Serafina had found her there alone. Strangely, he’d seemed more proud than angry. But from then on, spawn were not for pleasure, and his toys always disappeared again after one night. 

“If you command it, my love.” She stepped away from Astarion and glanced Navril up and down before addressing him. “Disrobe. Let me see what my lord has brought to me.” 

Navril hesitated, looking between the two of them and seeming unsure. 

“You heard her,” Astarion said, tone cool. 

This time Navril listened,  his simple tunic and pants quickly discarded. His skin was free from anything that would mar it, suggesting the warm tone was gained through pleasure, not work, and the same for the softness of his body. Perhaps a man of learning, or the son of a noble? Not that it would matter, when Astarion was done with him. All that mattered in here was the cock between Navril’s legs, already stirring to life.

“Now, what ever should we do with him,” Astarion coaxed, leaning over to kiss and nibble at her neck. 

Serafina considered the question. Truthfully, the additions to their bed held little interest for her, but it pleased Astarion to have her participate. And there were ways to do that without her own direct involvement. 

“I want to watch him suck your cock.”

Her words earned a toothy smile from him, fangs flashing alluringly from between his lips; she had fallen in love with that smile once upon a time. “A delightful start.” He placed her hands on his trousers, a silent command for her to open them. 

Obeying, she took him in her hand, stroking with a light, teasing touch, before backing away to gesture to their guest. Navril obediently dropped to his knees, mouth opening to accept Astarion’s cock. He ran his tongue along the length and over the head, coating it in saliva, before taking it all the way inside. 

Astarion gave a muted groan. 

Sera settled herself on the bed, legs spread, watching the lewd spectacle Astarion was making of Navril. But it didn’t last long at all.

“Not one whiff of arousal from my treasure; you’re boring her,” Astarion snapped suddenly, and gripped Navril’s hair in unrelenting fingers. With a violent thrust, he plunged the length of himself into Navril’s throat. 

Serafina felt a pang of regret for the too-soon loss of Astarion’s softer manner, muted by relief she wasn’t on the receiving end of this mood swing. 

Navril gagged as Astarion roughly fucked his face, still snapping orders at him. “That’s it, make a show for her. This is all for her, and you wouldn’t want to disappoint my consort, would you Navril? ” 

All for her. That stirred her, and her hand drifted between her thighs. Astarion froze, pulling back from Navril’s lips, leaving the man to mop the tears from his face. 

“Your turn, my sweet Serafina.” Astarion stalked toward the bed, discarding clothing and boots in his wake. 

“Come here,” he ordered the waiting Navril, pointing to the spot on the ground between her legs. 

“Yes, my lord.” The man’s eyes were hazy and he spoke as though enthralled. Not an impossible prospect. 

When he rose to obey, Astarion stopped him with a noise of disapproval. “On your knees, lest you forget how far above you she is.”

Sera blushed at the praise as Astarion settled himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Kissing and nipping at her ear, he whispered gently, “You’re so beautiful when you get excited, my love.”

Pulling down the shoulders of her gown, he exposed her pale breasts and pebbled nipples to Navril. “Touch her,” Astarion’s velvet voice commanded. 

Kneeling between her legs, Navril reached for her to obey. Fingers traced over her skin gently, circling the sensitive buds; Astarion made a noise of impatience. His own elegant fingers came around to pinch and roll them instead, much more harshly. Serafina whimpered and squirmed against him, his growing hardness pressing against her backside. He always knew how to drive her mad. 

“Shh, pet, you’re going to have every pleasure soon enough.” He gave her nipples a rough tug that left them stinging. “Now keep your legs spread.”

Obediently, she left them open wide, as Astarion reached out and tugged Navril by his hair toward her waiting sex. And then the same tongue that had tasted her lover tasted her, too, dipping into her folds and exploring her. 

“Does she not have the sweetest taste?” Astarion asked. Not that Navril could reply, of course.

Little licks went from teasing her hole to caressing her wanting clit. Her hips rolled against Navril’s face as Astarion continued to hold him in place. Warmth was building inside her, and she began to lose herself in the euphoric sensations. 

“Do you think you can make her come?” Astarion said, almost taunting. His free hand cupped Sera's breast, abusing her sore nipple again.

Turning her head, she tried to bury her face in his neck as she whined. She felt Navril pick up the pace, sucking at her clit ravenously. “Astarion,” she moaned, pleading; Navril was but the tool, it was Astarion who dictated her pleasure. 

“Come my love.” Astarion’s hand slipped down to slide fingers inside her, while Navril continued to suckle at her most sensitive part. 

With all of Astarion’s attention on her, Serafina lost herself, whimpering and crying out. 

“Good pet,” he crooned, fingers still playing with her briefly before he withdrew them, then took his time to lick each one clean, the lewd, wet sounds echoing in her ear. “Lay back,” he commanded. 

Sera felt herself tense; she never liked having anyone else besides Astarion himself inside her like that. But he was in such a good mood today, even after the earlier threat that it might turn worse. So she let herself be guided down onto the mattress, as Astarion moved out from behind her and slid her back from the edge. The fabric of her dress fanned out around her as she laid back, barely clinging to her body. 

Astarion looked to Navril, who waited on his knees still. “Fuck her; take my little love to ecstasy.” 

Wasting no time, Navril scrambled onto the bed and settled himself between her thighs. Looking down at her with eyes hazy from lust, he leaned his head toward her lips. 

Astarion struck lightning fast, his hand cracking against Navril’s cheek. “Those are mine alone.” His words came on a low, dangerous growl, and Navril tensed for a second. “As you were.” 

Seemingly afraid to disappoint again, Navril slid himself inside her quickly. Sera silently thanked the gods she was already ready for him as his girth stretched her. This close, the scent of his blood was almost overpowering, her hunger no longer so easily forgotten in the chaos of Astarion’s game. She found herself salivating again as Navril moved inside her, her fangs almost aching. 

“Astarion, I can’t,” she whined, the pleasure between her legs background noise to her rising desire for Navril’s blood. 

Astarion answered her with a predatory smile. Moving with unnatural grace, he left from her side, positioning himself behind Navril. Peering over Navril’s shoulder, he locked eyes with her and brought two fingers to his mouth, sucking on them just enough to wet them. Eyes never leaving hers, his hand drifted downwards. 

Navril groaned; Sera almost pitied him. Pleasure was often short-lived, with Astarion. 

“So greedy for both of us.” Astarion's voice was silken and beguiling, a tone he'd used with her once long ago, in a hidden clearing in the woods. 

Gripping Navril’s hips, Astarion drove forward, and Navril yelped in pain. “Take what you want,” he ordered, thrusting into Navril, causing him to move inside Sera.

She rolled her hips into it and moaned. It felt sinfully delicious to be fucked with Navril’s cock by Astarion like this. 

“You like that, little love?” he teased. 

Navril’s face scrunched in pain when Astarion moved again, pushing him forward, drawing more sounds from Sera in the process. Loved, spoiled, treasured… only Astarion could make her feel this way. 

As Astarion picked up his rhythm, Navril flailed for purchase, hands coming to grip the sheets desperately as he tried to remain upright. He grunted, almost collapsing under the assault as Astarion leaned over him,hips pumping relentlessly. 

Sera ignored him, looking up past him to Astarion’s face, watching him chase his own release as the body he forced into her pushed her to her own. She was so close, and Astarion was fucking into Navril with reckless violence. 

“Please,” the elf between them whimpered. 

“I…” Sera breathed, her body contracting around Navril, banishing all thoughts. 

Time slowed; she watched, transfixed, as Astarion’s mouth moved toward Navril’s throat. A cruel motion wrenched his head to the side; predatory fangs tore into his flesh. 

A rain of red spattered against her skin, the scent making her stomach roil. “Astarion,” she whispered through the haze of lust and hunger. A satisfied smirk answered her before he leaned over to lap at the blood now dripping from Navril’s neck. A pained whimper escaped her and she felt her hands come to rest on Navril’s shoulders, fingernails digging into the skin. 

What little blood there was in her thundered in her veins, a noise to drown out Navril’s suffering. Her mouth salivated as the coppery tang of his blood consumed all her senses. She was so, so hungry, and a feast was spilling down onto her. Distantly, she heard her own protests in her mind, her horror at the urge for a thinking creature’s blood. 

She pulled Navril toward herself as his eyes widened in horror, no escape possible trapped between the two of them. Mouth opening, her tongue caressed his blood-slick skin, a taste like nothing else in the world sending a new kind of pleasure pulsing through her. Hands moving from shoulders to hair, she forced his neck to her waiting teeth, body and mind demanding she sate herself. 

The wound Astarion had opened allowed just enough to tease; she tore into it further, sucking at the sweet nectar released. 

“That’s it, my sweet love, drink your fill,” Astarion encouraged, watching her from above Navril’s shuddering form. 

With his blood flowing into her, she could hear Navril’s heart, hear how it grew weaker with every swallowed mouthful. Again, her mind railed: she was killing him, just as she said she would never do. But the taste was so luscious, and her stomach didn’t hurt for the first time in years. 

Navril made a horrible rattling sound; she felt the flow of blood slow, then stop. The warmth filling her mouth ebbed away, and sanity returned. Hands and teeth released him, but he remained slumped over her. Navril was dead. 

“Oh gods,” she said softly, awareness washing over her. “I - I…”

“You ate properly for the first time,” Astarion said, tone gentle, at least for the moment. “As you deserve.  As you’ve always deserved.”

Standing, he pulled Navril’s body off of her, casually discarding him onto the floor, his purpose served. He settled himself onto the sheets next to Sera and pulled her into his arms. “I’m so proud of you, my love, taking care of yourself.” 

“But he, he was alive. And -” 

And she’d killed him. Murdered a thinking creature, a person, to quiet her own aching hunger. 

“Stop that,” Astarion responded sharply. “You’ve done what you needed to do. I don’t need you to backslide. I want my pretty little consort as healthy as she can be. I have great plans for the next few months, and you need to be fit to be by my side.” 

Fingers stroked her hair as he spoke, their gentleness in direct opposition to the demanding words. Astarion was happy with her, and she finally had peace from the awful hunger that haunted her. And so, resting her cheek against his chest, smearing gore from her face across that perfect ivory skin, she gave in. 

Even if she resisted, there was no doubt he would just find some other way to help her. 

[yellowbluemoonshine]

Gabimaru & Chobei; Their Humanity & Some Parallels

Both Gabimaru and Chobei are one of the most dangerous, strongest, violent criminals of the story. Even though, they dont interact much because they have their own story and journey, its like there is this Aza brothers and Gabi-gang. Be carefull for the spoilers :)))).

1- Humanity of Two Crazy Savages;

Those two characters are easiely one of the most interesting characters in series because of humanity in them, despite the fact that they are bloody criminals and what makes it better is its different for both of them.

With Gabimaru, every interaction and connection he made with others shows a different side of him. First, with his wife Yui, first person who ever kind to him and we get cute, blushy side of Gabi and later with Sagiri, she saves his life and despite the fact that her job is killing him, she empathise with him as person, not only it helps her to grow better and she also helps him to grow too, they connected deeply. And his interaction with Yuzuriha is sassy and they dont really get along but it still feels geniue, like sibling relationship. And with Mei, he decides to help that little girl because he remembered that she was treated horribly, just like Yui was and he empathize her desire to live normal life which is something he desperately wants too. And with other comprades he made with Tamiya, Fuchi and others, he naturaly gets along with him because why not? They dont have any reason to fight and all so we get this another side of Gabi with the connections he made with multiple people. We get version of him being flustered, sassy, grumpy, nekomaru etc, its fun to explore of him because he is not hollow. And the fact that he is small guy makes it funnier, lol.

With Chobei, another criminal we explore his humanity, during the story but in opposite way because Chobei doesnt really care about other people the way Gabi did. He has no interest in them and he has no motivation to change and to him, he already has everything he needs. Power, respect, Toma. He is egoistical barbaric guy who can easiely get along with others but he simply dont want to so what makes his character interesting isnt the ‘interaction’ he had with multiple people, it is just one person, his little brother Toma. Everything he did, his beginning, his ending, his motivation, everything is connected to his love for his brother. Chobei become a bandit to survive so that he could protect Toma. His one of the most important memories are being big brother. ‘Break down. Come apart.’ Something he repeatedly said from that specific memory. He doesnt mind dying for getting hurt for him and always ready to protect him. He loves Toma, he wants to protect him, he wants to be with him. It is interesting because he is very self-absorved character who couldnt care less about other people, except he will throw it all away for Toma.

If this story was longer and if Toma wanted to have normal life, i think Chobei would abandon his bandit king life. Their relationship is easiely one of the most interesting thing in story because it affects each others character, they mess each others up by only closing theirselves off from others, they are trauma bonding and has several abandonment issues but also their love is so pure that at least they have each others. Its just, no matter what happens, they will always be each others number one. (One of the funniest thing about this is the fact that only reason Chobei didnt try to/murder main squad is simply because they just little take care of his precious brother.) And no matter what kind of life they have, they would most likely still be close as possible, because thats how they are. (Relationship between Aza brothers is too much to talk so for now, thats it.)

Both characters want to go home, something they mentioned during the story. Gabi wants to Yui and Chobei wants to Toma because its their home, their humanity. I guess, what makes Gabi and Chobei different is for Gabi had nothing, so its about him finding people whom he can see as family, friends, lover etc while Chobei lost all of it at once except Toma, so he wants to protect that one family he has forever, he doesnt need others because to him, Toma can fullfil all roles for him.

2- Parallels; The Hollow and Bandit King

Gabimaru was born into nothing, he lost his family before able to knowing and fully connecting with them. He has nothing, this is why he was empty, until he met his wife. Chobei was once had everything. He was royal boy who has nice family and cute little brother but then, one boy one, he lost all of them except his little brother. Ironically, the reason they become ‘villain’/criminals are opposite. Gabimaru became criminal because he had nothing, Chobei became criminal because had something to lose. And ironically, being criminal made Gabimaru prisoner of his messed up village while it made Chobei free from messed up rules of society.

Gabimaru had no reason to feel any feeling for those he killed because thats how he was raised but Chobei wasnt raised that way but he still had to survive, he had no choice but to adapt to protect the one he care about. Chobei mirrors the people who stronger than him to adapt sitution which eventually turn him into bandit. We can say they both didnt have much choices in life.

Later after meeting his wife, Gabimaru found something he doesnt want to lose, he started to regain his humanity and during his journey, he regain it more, with the help of Sagiri and other people he encountered during his journey. He and Sagiri connect and later, he decide to help Mei anyway and he connects with others.

Though, unlike Gabimaru, Chobei is a lot closed off towards strangers. Thats why while Gabi changes during the story, Chobei remains the same at core, only his little brother who learns to connect with others change and Chobei adapts to it. While Gabimaru wants to redeem and live normal life, Chobei wants to continue live his life as criminal. Gabimaru is a lot like hero while Chobe is a lot like villain but they are very human characters in the end. Despite they seem opposite, i think it is important to remember that their beginning is different and they both are ready to give up on their humanity to return to ones they dont want to lose. Their home. Their family. For Gabimaru, its his wife Yui and for Chobei, its his little brother, Toma.

They both have compatible partner, (platonic soulmates) in a way. They have opposite, perfect match partners for them.Gabimaru’s partner is Sagiri, even their element are matching. Fire and wood. For Chobei, his partner is Toma, their elements are matching too. Metal and Earth. Sagiri is tall, black hair girl while Gabi is short, white hair boy. Sagiri has mature, compatible, mother energy, she is obsessed with rules while Gabi is cat like, stubborn, desire his freedom but also obedient. Chobei is dominant, masculine energy while Toma is obedient, feminine boy. They match perfectly. (Sagiri and Toma are kinda parallels too, in a way with their loyalty and support, etc.)

Whenever Gabimaru and Chobei about to loose their humanity, Sagiri and Thoma are the ones who reminds them to their humanity. (Though, in Gabimaru’s case, its both his wife and Sagiri.).They do their best to help them.

Another difference is about their desire to live. Gabimaru wants to have normal life for himself, thats why he tries his best to survive during the story while Chobei only wants to survive to protect his little brother, its for someone else’s sake, the moment he thought his brother can handle things by himself, he was okay with dying, thankfully he didnt.

At the end of story, both Gabimaru and Chobei die and become plant-person and saved by Sagiri and Toma. Gabimaru finally receive the normal life he wants with Yui and Chobei continue to his weird adventures with Toma.

There are many things to say but for now, thats it. Jigokuraku specifically focus on humanity of criminals and craziness of samurays so its interesting to explore, especially Gabi and Chobei gets many focus so i would like to talk about them more. There were too many pics that fits here but well, i didnt want to use too much. I read this manga years ago, kinda in a mood to talk about it more.

[littlejuicebox]

The sky responded, blue and silver bonded

-----

Chapter number: Five

Themes: BG3, slow burn, original female character x astarion, dialogue heavy, canon adjacent behavior, angst, feelings realization, trauma, the slighest of smuts in this one

Masterlist: Click here.

Song inspiration: "Blue and Silver" - Lower Dens

Notes: A little angsty, a little smutty. I'm obsessed with these two. I'm nervous to write a full out scene because I've never done one and the thought is terrifying to me. :)

Rating: Mature 18+

-----

It was evening when Astarion finally came out of his trance. His body was so tired, even after a full day of rest. He considered remaining in his tent until another merciful wave of sleep came to him, but the crackle of the campfire and its comforting glow lured the rogue from the confines of his tent. Everyone besides the little bird sat around the flame, all in various stages of their dinner, the distant sounds of bog creatures and the whimpers of a sleeping Scratch the only noise between them.

“How is she?” The pale-elf asked, his gut churning once again, unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer. He settled on a stump next to Wyll, where Scratch lay sleeping between the two men, but his attention was focused on the Shar-worshipper.

Shadowheart eyed him cautiously on the other side of the flame. She took a slow deep breath, almost as if it were her final attempt to delay delivering any news to Astarion. The woman shook her head and let out the breath in a shudder as everyone else in the circle suddenly became very interested in their food.

“Not good. She’s concussed; she vomited twice and keeps calling for someone named Kol in her slumber.” Shadowheart gave a cough as her voice began to crack. “I think her right eye is…. unsalvageable and her left eye will take a few days to heal. The confuson will be there for a few days, as well.”

All at once, Astarion felt as if he’d been the one stabbed by the Gur; he was greeted by another vile churn of his now-empty stomach. The silence of his campmates set him on edge -- 'How is nobody concerned by this?' -- and he snapped, unable to contain his frustration any longer and tongue lashing out to wound the messenger.

“What do you mean you can’t save her eye?! You aren’t trying hard enough, Shadowheart! Some god forsaken cleric you are… or are your tales of Shar’s power actually just fake and useless FUCKING propaganda!” He spat the words into the silence and was met with a swift blade pressed to his neck by none other than Lae’zel. Had the pale-elf not been blinded by rage and secretly hoping for a fight to release some of the tension housed in his body, he would’ve laughed at this interesting development.

“The only reason she’s in that tent is because that Gur was looking for you… or did you forget?” The Githyanki hissed, dark eyes filled with disgust. “And how many more monster-hunters will come our way because our leader stupidly insists on protecting you. I think we should all just cut ties with you... and with her.”

Astarion sneered at the Gith, pushing his neck forward, calling her bluff. “Did you forget, Lae’zel," He spat, scarlet eyes daggers as he met the alien's gaze. "That it was Wren who shot you down from that cage when your precious Shadowheart wanted to leave you to die? I will sooner kill you for your ungratefulness than watch you abandon her, you cockroach."

Karlach was on her feet now, forming a t-shape with her hands. “Timeout! Oi! No one is killing anyone and no one is slicing any necks and no one is leaving anyone behind. Not today.” She approached her campmates, sighing heavily. “Look. We all need to get some rest and formulate a plan tomorrow… together. It’s been too much excitement for one day and none of us can think straight.”

At this, Lae'zel swiftly lowered her blade from the vampire's neck with a hissed “tch.” She spun around and stamped toward her tent, tossing her dagger at the practice dummy where it sliced into the canvas and remained. The green woman ducked into her tent and then closed it off to the outside world, thwarting the hopes of any nighttime visitors.

The remaining camp members sat in tense silence for a moment before shrugging and also turning in for the night, leaving a clattering of bowls and spoons in their wake. That left Astarion alone with the dog, who had woken up during all the clamor and sat next to him, panting heavily.

Shadowheart, to her credit, had remained the longest, desperate to express something she couldn’t find the words for. The expressions she wished for never came, so instead she sighed and clasped her hands in prayer as she addressed the vampire.

“I am trying, Astarion. But I cannot work miracles.” She muttered, voice cracking again, before she heaved another stressed sigh and headed to Wren’s tent, focused on performing one last exam prior to bed.

Scratch placed his injured maw on Astarion’s lap. Initially, the rogue wanted to recoil at the smelly, hot breath the dog coated his leg in, but decided to leave the creature be. Gods. He desperately wanted to go to Wren’s tent and speak to her, but Shadowheart was already there, and the vampire was unsure if his stomach could face what was sure to be a horrible sight. Guilt and fear settled into his chest, their roots taking hold and twisting around his heart, sharp pangs hitting him every time he took a breath. He remained on that stump with Scratch until the last embers of the campfire dwindled, signaling the rogue that it was time to force himself into a trance and fall into the numbing void.

-----

Wren’s consciousness found itself warped in a hazy state somewhere at the intersection between reality, dreams, and memory for the next few days. The ranger startled awake the day after the Gur encounter to a stressed Shadowheart stripping Wren of her filthy, blood-stained tunic, which the cleric had declared a lost cause. Unable to protest due to the bile rising in her mouth, the honey-eyed half-elf had let the other woman undress her down to her knickers. Then, she vomited, and passed out once again.

Kol came to her in a dream that night… except, it wasn’t actually Kol. The dream guardian’s face was same, those piercing eyes so comforting and familiar, but there was something strange about the way he carried himself. She’d grabbed his hand, her subconscious state desperate to find comfort, and dream-Kol told her that he was here to protect her. He’d said she needed to embrace the potential of the parasite to save the fate of Faerun before telling her to wake and promising she would feel better in the morning.

The following morning — or was it the morning after that? Wren became more conscious of the fact that she couldn’t see out of either eye. She noted with panic that the right side was completely pitch black, but in the left she saw flashes of light and shadow. The ranger mentioned as much, choking back tears of fear and frustration, to a solemn Shadowheart. The Shar-worshipper had done nothing but hum in response and cover both Wren’s eyes with a cold, putrid-smelling salve.

Gale came by many times throughout the days to spoon feed her meals. Wren found she was never more thankful for Gale and his ramblings about Tara and Waterdeep than she was now. She was content to be the sounding board and let him chatter on excitedly, his loquacious nature making is so that she did not have to fill the silence. Between her meals, she fell into sweaty sleep, sometimes dreaming of Kol, sometimes dreaming of Astarion (where was he?), and sometimes having the strange sensation that she was experiencing one of her campmate’s current points of view as the tadpole wriggled in her brain.

In her fitful periods of a sleep, she saw Lae’zel brush strands of hair from a worn and desperate looking Shadowheart, tears in the cleric’s eyes. She saw Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch as hand's that must've been Gale's prepped oatmeal for breakfast. And she saw a locked cabinet flicked open by a pale, dexterous hand, the contents of that cabinet not revealed to her during her slumber.

“For the love of Shar, go in there, you absolute git. You’ve been pacing around here nearly an hour!”

“Oi mate, it’s time! Grow some bollocks.”

Wren woke in mid-afternoon light to three beings whispering urgently outside her tent. She found, with some relief, that her left eye had finally been released from its previous prison of two bulged eye sockets and she could see well enough to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. She desperately needed a bath, the smells of dried blood, stale sweat, and bile clung to her in thick wafts, and her hair had turned into a dried clump of tangles.

Suddenly, Astarion burst into the tent, a tensed coil of jittery energy, and Wren felt her body burn with embarrassment; she silently wished the feeling would ignite her and burst her into flames on the spot. The ranger woman was not particularly vain — spending long stretches of time in the wild without a mirror or civilization had that effect — but she knew she looked ghastly and smelled horrible. And Astarion, well… he looked as he always did, nearly flawless, though his face seemed more sunken, and his eyes were circled by blue-purple bags of sleeplessness.

“Hello, darling.” He murmured, still standing, fiddling with a small package of wrapped cloth in his hand. “I… well… this for you." He waved the package in his hand before crouching down and placing it in Wren's lap. "Shadowheart told me she had to dispose of your tunic, and I thought that perhaps you might appreciate being covered by more than your undergarments while everyone insists on making calls to your tent."

Wren took the package he offered quietly, still painfully aware of her appearance as she undid the jute string holding the plain cloth together. The dressings broke apart to reveal a beautiful azure chemise. The woman's vision was still blurred since she could only see out of the left eye, but she had enough eyesight to appreciate how beautiful — and expensive — the gift was. Her stomach sank with guilt… they weren’t exactly loaded with cash.

The half-elf stared down at the piece of clothing, her bruised and battered fingers running lines along the golden floral embroidery stitched across the hem of the square, flounced neckline. Wren almost laughed at the extravagance of the nightdress. In her past, she'd always favored practicality, which meant sleeping in the nude or a garment that was past its prime for daytime use... fancy stitching and dyes were altogether foreign. She sighed, “Thank you, Astarion… but I think... well, perhaps you should return it, it isn’t—“

“Return it!” Astarion cut in with a good-natured chortle, sides of his eyes crinkling with humor, his head tilted back to look at the ceiling. “Little bird… you want me to return it to the charred remains of Waukeen’s Rest? I won't hear another word of that ridiculous droll; I’m sure Counsellor Florrick won’t miss it a bit."

“Counsellor Florrick?”

Astarion waved his hand dismissively. “You’ve missed quite a bit, darling. We couldn’t very well stay here and be sitting ducks, so we split up to do our own scouting and gather information while you were under recovery. Karlach and I pulled some Counsellor out of a burning building yesterday -- well, really, as you can expect it was Karlach that did all the work -- and today I returned to pillage the remains. We’d spent most of our gold purchasing what Shar’s favorite cleric needed for your salves, you see, and I guess I took a note from your book. This was there.”

Wren sighed in both relief and frustration, thankful that her gift had not cost them any coin but upset with herself that her healing had drained them near-dry. She made to put her new nightdress on while he moved to place a long-fingered hand on her wrist.

“Ah, darling. Perhaps you should consider a bath before you dress.”

His tone was polite, but the implication made Wren’s face flush once again with embarrassment. All she could do was nod.

“Let me go get Shadowheart, then. Wait here, little bird.”

-----

The bath somehow turned into an a group affair. Everyone was excited to see their leader back on her own feet and to share the tales of adventure she’d missed in her dazed state. Wren found herself thankful to be covered in Astarion’s shirt, which he had taken off and thrust at her in a snap decision. Initially she’d refused, considering the offer far too intimate for their current relationship status (whatever that was) but he’d responded with a roll of his scarlet eyes and a huffy but convincing, “Your body is yours to show off or cover however you wish, darling, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As one would think, the bog wasn’t the best place to find clean water suitable for a bath. So, Gale and Wyll double-teamed the task of readying bathwater with a bit of spellcasting and transmutation practice. It was quite a clever and efficient affair. Gale would conjure water, Wyll would heat it, and then Karlach would haul the bucket over to Shadowheart who, unsurprisingly, treated bathtime as if it were a surgical procedure. Lae’zel and Astarion stood begrudgingly on either side of the cleric as she instructed them to hand her different sponges, soaps, combs, salves and bandages that she used on the ranger with a heavy hand. Wren was sat on a tree stump, utterly at the mercy of the Shar-lover, and forced to endure her as she scraped, scrubbed, primped, and primed... cleansing the ranger of all matter of filth and potentially a few layers of skin.

The little bird’s eyes kept wandering to Astarion when he turned to retrieve another item that Shadowheart requested of him. She noted, with a mix of quickly stifled horror and shock, that his back was covered in a large, raised scar. Wren’s mind wandered through her memories, and she noted that she hadn’t seen the vampire shirtless until now. Camp life held different rules when compared to society, and while the group was far from a nudist colony, it hadn’t been unusual to catch glimpses of barred torsos and legs among her counterparts. She now understood why Astarion always went hunting while everyone else bathed.

As she worked, Shadowheart revealed that she, Gale, and Wyll had managed to infiltrate the Goblin Camp and do some reconnaissance. The shar-worshipper laughed as she explained how she’d disguised herself as a drow and waltzed right in with their posse. She described the interaction they had at the entrance of the gate, spurred on by their tadpoles, and recollected every detail about the True Souls and where they were located within the temple. Unfortunately, no one had any further information about Halsin. To Wren's surprise, the gang had already killed one True Soul named Priestess Gut and tipped her body off of a cavern edge... astoundingly, this had been Gale's idea. The goblins noted Gut's absence but without any evidence of struggle or a body to be found, they'd shrugged it off as her usual leave of business.

“Gut!” Astarion had interjected with incredulity. “The goblin’s name was Gut. How ridiculous.” Which had made Wren burst into laughter that quickly made her wince and stifle herself to avoid further pain. The vampire responded her laughter with a small smile before Shadowheart barked another order his way and roped him back into the task at hand.

Wyll and Gale recalled with shock and horror the beating that Shadowheart willingly took from Abdirak in the name of Loviatar. Wren noted with surprise that Lae’zel lamented her inability to witness the cleric’s penance, since the Githyanki been forced to become Wren’s babysitter while everyone else had all the fun. Wren noted that the usual edge to the Lae'zel's voice had been replaced with a touch of excitement... or perhaps arousal. ‘Who would’ve guessed that one.’

As the last rays of sunlight flared across the sky in a beautiful, milky blend of pink and orange, Wren was finally declared clean and dressed in her new nightgown. The ranger’s right eye was covered with a patch, and her hair was lifted into a high ponytail with accent braids. It wasn’t a style she would usually pick for herself, but Shadowheart did seem to prefer high updos. The little bird went along with it, as she was in no position to refuse the bossy Shar-lover. Finally, she was escorted back to her tent by Gale, who informed her of his intent to bring dinner by shortly.

“Her arms and hands work, wizard! It’s just the right eye that doesn’t.” Astarion bristled as he donned his own shirt, which Wren had returned minutes prior. His eyes were narrowed at the human as he pushed his silver curls back and tightened the strings of his shirt.

Wren thanked Gale but informed him that she actually was not hungry and preferred to rest. The wizard, always good-natured and rather receptive, nodded and walked off toward Wyll, who poured them both a glass of wine as they waited for dinner to finish cooking. Slowly, the half-elf ducked into her tent, still adjusting to seeing through one eye and attempting to avoid any sudden movements sending her spinning. She turned to see the vampire watching as she entered her shelter and gestured for him to follow her. Her heart fluttered a beat as he obliged.

-----

“You really don’t remember what happened after you stabbed Gandrel in the eye?” Astarion asked, brow cocked with incredulity. “Darling, you were, by all accounts, amazing… and also quite terrifying.”

He recounted the events to Wren and watched as her eyes — well, eye — widened in shock and terror. A hush fell between them and Astarion whispered the next question, the one that had been on his and everyone else's mind for days.

“Wren... Who is Kol?”

Wren gasped and clasped freckled hands over her mouth but said nothing. The silence stretched between them again. Crickets and frogs sang outside the tent, highlighting the awkward bit of quiet that fell between rogue and ranger. But Astarion wouldn’t relent by moving past the question; he had am inexplicable, visceral need clawing at his psyche. He needed the answer more than he needed to drink blood.

“My husband.”

Time always moved at a strange pace for the vampire. Torture sessions seemed like they lasted decades and his few moments of relative freedom out on the streets of Baldur’s Gate lasted mere seconds. But in this moment, it felt as if the world stopped turning at all. Astarion noted that familiar sensation of nausea rising up again. 'Who knew freedom would cause as much sickness as captivity does.' The nausea flipped to outrage and his lips curled back, fangs bared, tongue ready to cut into the little bird when she continued through a shaky breath.

“He’s dead. I must’ve been calling for him when I was out of it.”

Astarion stopped his insults before they spilled out of his mouth. He was astonished but found he did not desire, in that moment, to hear further details. The revelation, mixed with the fact that he hadn’t hunted anything since Wren had let him bite into her several days prior, had been enough to give him a headache. The silence stretched between them again. To the rogue's surprise, he reached a pale hand to her freckled one and sighed.

“I suppose... well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that, little bird. Now let’s get you into bed. I have to turn in early as it is, I’ll be gone by first light. Shadowheart found some man named Volo at the Goblin Camp and needs me to break him out of his cell, for what, I have no earthly idea. It seems that even with you out of commission, I'll never get away from being forced to play the hero."

Wren's response surprised the vampire entirely. She deftly grabbed the flounced collar of his shirt and pulled him forward into a kiss, practically lunging to meet him. His cold lips crashed to her warm ones, the smell of berries and cinnamon eerily reminiscent of the moment they'd shared a few nights prior. Wren poured so much emotion into Astarion’s mouth, extracting an overwhelming wave of emotion from him, that all he could think to do was close his eyes and succumb to her kiss.

The half-elf woman's shaking, freckled hands drifted up to the vampire's face and then brushed along to pinna of his pointed ears, shocking a gasp from his mouth and the sudden rush of blood into his ears. In his previous encounters under Cazador’s control, he’d never crossed paths with someone that dared to perform such an intimate gesture on a one-night stand. She’d thrown him off script again and ignited a part of his psyche that had buried itself beneath layers of rote mechanics and one-liners for 200 years. The vampire grasped desperately at her forearm in response, silently urging her to touch him again, but froze in place when the little bird winced in pain and retracted from the kiss, pulling him out of the spell.

Astarion opened his eyes and gently pulled Wren’s hands away from his face; half of his heart regretted the action the moment he performed it, desperate to feel her warmth along his cheek once more. She was staring at him, cheeks flushed. She was a vision in the new nightdress he'd given her, and the new hairstyle Shadowheart had chosen for the ranger gave an enticing view of the neck and collarbone. The vampire stunned himself when he planted a soft kiss on Wren’s knuckle before placing her hands in her own lap. “Perhaps we should postpone more… athletic activities, little bird.” He murmured, offering her a raised eyebrow and a good-natured twinkle in his scarlet eyes to ease the sting of rejection. “After all, Shadowheart will have my head if I undo all her hard work. And I do believe her green guard dog would love any excuse to rip my neck out.”

This wasn’t a simple game anymore. Everything that had happened and everything she shared twisted his original plan of manipulation to feel much more… well, wrong. Part of him wished to go back to the time when he knew nothing of his marks apart from their desperation for his body. It had been astoundingly easy back then.

But Wren wasn’t an easy mark. Astarion was sure he could not compete with the ghost of her dear, dead husband. Surely, she would see his true colors and reject him in the end. And what was the point of exerting all that effort? He needed someone that would follow him blindly to Cazador.

“Goodnight, darling.” The pale elf whispered as he turned on his heel and stalked towards his tent, not waiting for a reply. He burst into his own shelter, desperate to be far away from the spell that little bird had him under and relieved of the painful straining within his trousers. What an idiot spawn he was, that the slightest brush against his ear had sent him into such a frenzied state. A few urgent tugs of his trousers to force them down and the vampire grasped desperately at his arousal. Astarion used his deft hand to stroke wantonly at his member, gasping as the release came. His head tilted back, he saw a flash of Wren’s scarred lip and freckled collar bone ripping through his mind as he rode the wave of his climax.

Either she was going to be his undoing, or he was going to be hers.

[writinginacafe]

Gold and Shadows, part I

Azriel couldn't help but feel that happiness affected everyone but him. And he thought it was highly unfair. During his whole life, there were only two women whom he really wanted to have an intimate relationship with and both of them were happy with other people. And yet both of his brothers have found the loves of their lives. He felt left out, alone and blue.

But then he realised he wasn't the only one feeling this way.

What will happen if two broken souls finally meet? Is there a possibility that a special bond could be created between them?

Word count: 1073

Warnings: None to this chapter

***

Azriel hasn't seen this girl before. He was pretty sure that he would have remembered her. Or maybe not. He hasn’t been paying attention to any female except Mor and then Elain for quite a long time. But both are happy now. Morrigan is living her best life travelling with Cassandra, her girlfriend—and to his surprise, her coming out wasn’t as big of a shock to him as he thought it would have been—and Elain... He sighed at the very thought of this beautiful, delicate woman that he, according to some opinions, wasn’t enough for. Oh, how desperately he desired her love and affection! But she’s with another now. And she’s awfully happy with him. 

His huge, scarred hand tightened on a whisky glass a bit too much. He despised the mental image that the thought of Elain and Lucien brought him every time he dared to let himself come back to the memories of this precious girl. Her smile, her gentle hands, the way her cheeks blushed. She was perfect, so soft and innocent. He wanted to protect her, listen to her, look at her. Kiss her and touch her. But she was out of his reach.

And there he was, trying to listen to his friends babbling about something that seemed only mildly interesting to him, downing yet another glass of whisky, and trying to find comfort in the burning sensation the goldish liquid left on the walls of his throat as he watched an unfamiliar girl setting up a display in the window of a bookshop. He could have sworn it was the first time he saw her in Velaris, and doing what he did, he kept a keen eye when it came to details. These golden shimmers in the brown hair were new to him. He could very clearly see them from a short distance, and he couldn’t help the curiosity growing in his mind. It has been a while since a new face showed up in the city. 

“… then I told her that Azriel would like to take her out and dance with her in the rain with his shirt off, right, Az?”

Not paying any attention to Nesta’s words, hearing only his name, Azriel murmured something that could have sounded close to “Of course.”. 

“I also heard he likes to dress in Amren clothes when no one looks,” Cassian said. “Tell me, Az, which dress is your favourite? Is it the black one? Or the sexy red one?”

Still, not paying any attention, Shadowsinger mumbled something again. He was too busy watching the movement of long, slim fingers putting the books on cartoon shelves, to acknowledge his friends were trying to get his attention. There was something magical and hypnotising about the way the girl’s hands were moving. He couldn’t take his eye off them. 

“We could keep this going, you know,” a sudden elbow nudge brought Azriel back to reality. “But it’s no fun when we have no response”.

Az looked at Cassian with annoyance, not sure what his brother was talking about.  

“What?” he growled, moving a bit further away from Cas and his devilish smirk. 

“You haven’t heard the word we said, right?”

Shadowsinger moved his eyes from Cas to Rhys and then to Feyre. The woman smiled lightly. 

“It’s Iris,” she said, pointing with her chin at the bookshop and suddenly abandoned window. “She moved here from the Dawn Court a month ago.”. 

As much as he wanted to say he didn’t care, he listened carefully. 

“Did she move here alone?” asked Nesta, sipping on her lemon water. 

“She lost her family in the war with Hybern.”

And as the conversation continued, he once again looked in the bookshop’s direction. The lights were off and there was no sight of anyone inside. 

“Azriel, are you even with us tonight?” 

The Illyrian man sighed. 

“Of course, I am,” he said, eyes drifting away from the books on the display. 

“Haven’t gotten any in a while, have you?” Cassian made a move to nudge him again, but Az was faster. He used his own elbow to push away Cas’s arm and shot him not a very friendly glare. 

The truth was, Cassian was right. Azriel hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time, but he didn’t understand why this, not-very-glorious part of his life, was being mentioned. He was quiet and moody this evening but to be honest, he was quiet most of the evenings, especially recently. His family knew that he still hadn’t gotten over Elain moving in with Lucien, even though none of them decided to talk about it openly and loudly. They knew him and they knew there was this special spark between him and the middle Archeron sister. The spark that died along with her moving out of Velaris. 

He wasn’t heartbroken, at least he thought he wasn’t, but it hurt him, still. He needed time to get over this hole that had been created in his chest; to get over himself. And he definitely didn’t need his love life being discussed on the forum. 

“Maybe Iris is not the best choice,” Feyre said, completely unbothered by Azriel’s facial expression. “She’s new, she needs friends, not a one-night stand.”. 

Something inside of him twitched, making his heart itchy. These words weren’t supposed to hurt him, he knew that, because he knew Feyre, but he couldn’t help this sudden sadness strolling through his body. 

A one-night stand? Is that all he could be to a woman? Just a short overnight episode? 

“How do you know her, anyway?” asked Cassian and Azriel felt completely invisible to his own friends. He has learned to keep his feelings to himself way too well and now, when he in fact needed someone to notice his struggle, no one looked hard enough to see it. They were used to him and his stone-cold expression. He did this to himself. 

“Our High Lady is highly involved in the citizens' lives,” that saying, Rhysand kissed his wife’s temple, and she smiled wildly in response. The love was in the air. They were practically glowing with it and as happy as Az was for them, he was also incredibly jealous that happiness touched everyone but him. 

He didn’t even want to focus on their conversation anymore. He drowned in his thoughts and his world. Dark world, in which he was surrounded by his shadows only.

[rafent]

✦ 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 ✧

* grandmaster mastery drabble ( fell xenologue ch. 5 spoilers )

Nil was a caring brother. He picked up a weapon because he wanted to share in Nel's struggles, because two halves of a whole but one clinging to the other with hopes and prayers didn't make them equal. A glorified dragonstone warmer couldn't protect anyone, not himself and especially not her.

"It's fine, really. Like this even a failure like me can be useful."

Nil was a naughty brother. He admitted one thing to his big sister, but left out another. Left out several. He picked the axe because he'd hate being worse than Nel at anything. Festering in his heart was enough darkness, enough spots of black rotting canker, that he wouldn't dare invite one more to eat him up inside. Not an unheard of story, neither across history nor across fell kind; better that the younger forge his own way, step out of her shadow and into unclaimed skies of his own.

And of course, last but not least, 'Nil' was a right old strategist.

A vicious Child at the end of the day, who put one thought before every foot. Every Fell Dragon lost their twin eventually, and Nil would too if Nel ever found out. She'd rip him apart for daring to impersonate what was hers, she'd abandon the one who needed her more than she ever needed him. Every Fell Dragon lost their twin eventually, and one day Nil would too.

If that's what his dreams took.

"Remember, Nil. Swords break axes, and axes break lances."

...

Two halves of a whole, the Divine One had once stated with wonder, at times of the newcomers Nel and Nil with their immovable attachments at the hip, and at others of the partnered Emblems that called the bracelet of the Shepherd Exalt home. If they would only lay eyes upon all of them now, they'd be turning in their grave.

Break! Twin on twin, brutality forced upon brutality unwilling. The Fell Heir wielded his axe with vicious purpose against the thin haft of Represailles, and snapped it away from Nel's hands. He let her pick it up, then struck again.

Already he was a new person, or one might argue, the truest he’d always been; cruel and calculating, his four puny breezes cast off like jetsam on a ship that had no more room for them. Cruel; the pleas of the anguished sister ignored, as another Divine One looked on. Calculating; breaking Nel would break resistance, this could all stop once that fool agreed to cooperate.

Strike and strike again. With each brutalizing blow, a flash of gold and royal blue on his arm, well-suited on outside and strange on inside. It had seemed different on the Divine One—their Divine One—on whom there had always been some calming affectation of reassurance, and cleansed noble strength.

On Rafal, nothing of those qualities remained. Foregoing blue, Chrom hovered ominously behind him as a blood-red moon, to his new partner both a valuable weapon and the vignette of a memory; blue at blue's back, a sinuous pair of swords striking as one. He could have his pick of any bracelet in this fight, so why this one, why theirs, had his choice of Chrom been born of sentiment?

An unbecoming theory.

The hero from which this spirit was derived had slain a powerful Fell Dragon in his life, his Emblem incarnation had helped to slay even Father while perched on the Divine One's wrist, and Rafal too once possessed dragons to slay from sister to brother, now to sister again. It was a matter of mutual talents, a pairing predicated on the fang best suited to a maw.

...Nothing more, nothing less.

"Let me introduce you. This is Chrom. Together with Robin, they make up the Emblem of Bonds. Two halves of a whole—a bit like you and Nel, wouldn't you say?"

...

Across their centuries together as false brother and giving sister, Nel had never played with Nil roughly, never so much as hurt him, much less tried to kill him. She'd made the choice to hold him precious; the vestigial limb she were meant to cut away as all her kind did instead retained, her twin dragging uselessly behind her, though his weight bogged her down.

Kind, giving Nel was full of surprises, too.

“So. . .you finally struck at me in earnest.”

Something flitted across his face, genuine, on the end of a fierce strike that caused Chrom to gutter out like a flame and Rafal to hit the ground. The bars of the prison vanished in flickering prisms, letting out the Divine One, letting spill all tightly lidded hopes. Resistance hadn't broken, his prisoner freed, but even in the event of unexpected development, of seeming failure, he was still alive.

This too was his expectation, wasn't it?

In the end, he knew Nel wouldn’t be able to do it. If she truly aimed to kill her brother, that would be no more than closing those same fangs about herself. The heart was a tool and a burden, the owners of it promisingly soft. They worked their hands raw for higher purpose, abraded themselves on concessions for people higher than themselves, said yes where they ought say no, let live when they ought kill. For Nel it had been Nil, and for the Divine One it could still be Nel likewise.

Their footsteps departed. Rafal's eyes snapped open with a giggle, both mad and sane. No use wading in brine when there was still honey to be found. So long as he wasn't dead, there was always another plan.

Wiping clean the slate, the desert temple rumbled on its failing stilts. Collapsed to rubble in the wake of departed twins with matters left to finish.

"Zelestia. Please support these two going forward, no matter what happens.”

[toujokaname]

Evanescent / Episode 4

Characters: Rinne, HiMERU, Niki, Kohaku  

"Even if HiMERU doesn't say it, you already know, don't you."

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Spring

Location: Hospital Lounge

HiMERU: .........

Rinne: Hey there, you're looking gloomier than usual, Merumeru.

So, what, an idol can make even a sorrowful expression bloom into a beautiful one? As expected of Crazy:B's ultimate heartthrob, gyahaha ♪

HiMERU: ...Amagi. This is a hospital, so please keep it down.

Rinne: I'm being considerate, ain't I? I'm keeping it low enough.

So? What're you doing here, Merumeru? Abandoning your beloved Kohaku-chan?

HiMERU: .........

Rinne: Silent treatment, huh? Normally, you'd have a more convincing deception scheme up your sleeve by now. ...Yeah? HiMERU?

Shall I change my line of questioning a little? What business would you have on a whole different floor from Kohaku-chan's room?

HiMERU: —You're still as awful as ever.

The same goes for you, Amagi. Why are you waiting for HiMERU on a floor that doesn't concern you?

Even if HiMERU doesn't say it, you already know, don't you.

Rinne: Bingo ♪ Of course I know all there is to know about my precious unit members—right down to the nitty-gritty details.

Like, for exaaample... How our Merumeru here's actually lying about his age by a year...♪

I mean, you gotta keep up the act, right? Gotta stay in character to impersonate your little brother, Kanamecchi Tojo—that is, "HiMERU." But hey, turns out you and Niki are the same age, huh! ♪

HiMERU: —Profile details are inconsequential. Shaving a year off one's age is commonplace enough, isn't it?

More importantly. For you to even know the exact location of his hospital room...

HiMERU: Let me make this clear. If you intend to drag Kaname into anything, "I" won't show any mercy.

Even if it's you I'm up against, if you lay a finger on him, I'll annihilate you beyond recognition...!

Rinne: Whoa there. Is that what you look like when you've been stripped off your perfect facade? Gyahaha, you're lookin' pretty cool, Merumeru ♪

Relax. I'm not planning to go that far.

I just figured maybe the reason you've been acting all weird lately might have something to do with "HiMERU."

HiMERU: .........

Rinne: I mean, I could've just snuck into Kanamecchi's room without telling you and forced him to spill the beans, y'know?

But I didn't wanna take any unnecessary gambles that might ruin the trust between us I've built so far.

HiMERU: ...Haah. Do you truly believe I have any trust to place in you, Amagi?

Rinne: No need to get all bashful now, okay? Since we've got a close bond, you and I...♪

HiMERU: .........

—Has Oukawa woken up yet?

Rinne: He's all better now. Despite being the one who collapsed, he spent more time worrying about everyone else.

Kohaku-chan's too nice for his own good. Even though he got dragged into this 'cause of you, Merumeru.

HiMERU: HiMERU caused Oukawa a great amount of trouble. Projecting his little brother onto him... And forcing him to bear the burden of Kaname's dreams...

That's where HiMERU went wrong.

Rinne: ...So, it was about Kanamecchi after all.

HiMERU: Yes. The reason HiMERU noticed the trend was because Kaname had some PBB merch in his room.

He must have bought it while he was conscious. It's clear he was happy watching the trend unfold.

That's why HiMERU—why "I" thought it was Kaname's wish for HiMERU to pursue that dream. Even though "I" was personally skeptical of the trend...

It's only natural that others thought something felt strange. After all, HiMERU has been going through the motions while simultaneously doubting HiMERU.

Kohaku: —Well, that's rich. So you were doubtin' it too, HiMERU-han.

HiMERU: ...?! Oukawa?! And Shiina too...? How long have you been here?

Niki: Uh~m. We came in around the part where you were talking about something feeling strange?

Kohaku: Rinne-han texted sayin' you were in the lounge. Then, we heard y'all arguin' up a storm, so we came to check in on things.

HiMERU: ...... (Scowls at Rinne)

Rinne: ♪~♪~♪ (Whistles)

HiMERU: Sigh... This confirms there really is no trust to place in Amagi.

Kohaku: Well, ain't that somethin' you've known and hated for ages now?

More importantly—so you weren't happy with JoyLife's whole deal either, HiMERU-han?

HiMERU: HiMERU did desire to share a life with Oukawa, and it's the truth that he genuinely had fun, though...?

Kohaku: So that part was true after all, huh...?

HiMERU: —Does that mean you didn't enjoy it, Oukawa?

...No, of course you didn't. In fact, you were so stressed you even had a panic attack...

Kohaku: Argh, geez, enough already! Quit that sulkin', it's such a pain in the ass! That part don't even matter!

If you're askin' if I had fun, then yeah, I had a good time!

I just think the show coulda been handled better, is all...

Rinne: Hee-yoo ☆ Things sure are heatin' up between you two, huh~♪

Kohaku: Will ya knock it off?! That ain't even what I'm tryin' to say...

HiMERU: —Not everything was a lie, you know.

Reproducing exactly what everyone wants to see, without a millimeter of error, and showing his fans a perfect HiMERU... He still believes that's the right thing to do.

Kohaku: I get that, and I agree with it.

What I don't agree with is actin' like there's no point in doin' anythin' else.

I want my fans to see all kinds of different sides of me.

Sure, I wanna cherish the image they love, but I also wanna do work that catches 'em off guard and surprises 'em.

The world's big, after all. I wanna experience more and show off all that Kohaku Oukawa has to offer.

Niki: Nahaha. I get what Kohaku-chan's saying, too.

Kohaku: ...Even though you were agreein' with HiMERU-han earlier?

Niki: It's not like I have to pick sides, right? I still think what I said to HiMERU-kun was true too.

A regular menu doesn't need to change. But if that's all you serve, customers are gonna get bored real fast.

That's why we chefs rack our brains trying to come up with new dishes all the time.

And when we put 'em on the menu as seasonal specials, customers gobble 'em right up ♪

HiMERU: —Fufu. Shiina, you've been surprisingly sharp with your metaphors lately.

HiMERU doesn't want to limit any of HiMERU's opportunities to succeed, either.

(Really, Kaname wasn't looking at just PBB.)

(That boy was simply dazzled by watching HiMERU succeed. Like an innocent little kid...)

(So nothing about what "I" do will change from now on.)

—For HiMERU's perfect self to be shown to as many people as possible... That is HiMERU's true and honest dream...♪

Kohaku: Hearin' that makes me feel relieved. Feels like the usual HiMERU-han's finally back.

HiMERU: Oukawa. HiMERU sincerely apologizes for causing you trouble by dragging you into his plans and putting undue pressure on you.

Kohaku: Don't worry 'bout it. Now that I've heard what's been on your mind, I actually feel way better than before.

Rinne: Looks like you two survived your little breakup crisis and came out with a happy ending, gyahaha! ♪

But, y'know. It ain't exactly all sunshine and rainbows yet.

The world's still completely hooked on PBB, and Crazy:B can't properly get back to work. So, what's the game plan now?

If you want, I can solve it all with one last glorious bang.

HiMERU: Your offer is appreciated, but HiMERU must decline. Your methods always make too many enemies, Amagi.

Besides, since HiMERU was the one who set much of this into motion, he will take responsibility for it himself.

Rinne: Huuh. Well, aren't you just brimming with confidence?

HiMERU: With Oukawa having collapsed, PBB's activities will likely be on hold for a while. During that period, HiMERU will handle the preparations.

HiMERU: Just you watch. Allow HiMERU to demonstrate how to bring this capricious frenzy to a peaceful end ♪

[ ☆ ]

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[cosmiclion]

I've been working on my Familiar AU more and finished another old sketch. Meet another of my OCs, her name's Maggie.

She’s like a wet cat and I love her. Also she’s Grell’s biological mother (I wouldn’t have bothered to make parents for Grell but I felt like they were needed to explain her personality and behavior lol).

-Margaret Katherine Müller (née O’Sullivan) -Irish -Born in May 20th, 1838 -Widow

Full backstory under the cut, be warned that it's very long lmao.

The following character bio deals with topics like violent death of a significant other, major injury and trauma, reproductive coercion, unwanted parenthood, child emotional neglect and eventual abandonment, and misogyny. Also I’ll be using he/him for Grell for most of it as she figured herself out years after these events and she views her past self as a different person (I won't be revealing her deadname tho).

Maggie emigrated to England with her elderly aunt and uncle and an older cousin, the latter of whom set off to work in a farm in the other side of the country.

She befriended a boy called Gustav, son of a German couple who owned a shop that Maggie’s aunt visited often. By their teenage years they were sweethearts.

When Maggie’s aunt and uncle passed away, Gustav's parents were delighted to take her in.

They got married as soon as they legally could. They did talk about children, but agreed that it wasn’t something they really wanted. They didn’t change their minds even after six years of marriage.

Their neighbourhood was peaceful, the only time they heard about anything unusual was when the neighbours started warning each other about a werebeast that had been seen roaming nearby.

One night they were taking a stroll through the park and that’s where they saw it. It looked like a starving stray cat, only as big as a horse. As soon as they made a move, the beast charged at them. It mauled Gustav beyond recognition and would’ve mauled Maggie too if it wasn’t for a group of armed neighbors that were patrolling nearby and shot it dead just in time as it was biting her leg.

The woman was rushed to the hospital. The doctors managed to save her leg, but said she’d probably need a cane to walk.

After some rehabilitation she was finally ready to go home and the doctor came in to give his final report. He said they wanted to run a few tests first but now could safely say it: she was pregnant.

They got home and she heard her in-laws talking excitedly. She finally snapped out of it. She didn’t want a child, she could never be a good mother. All she wanted was to mourn in peace, to be left alone. She didn’t want this baby and didn’t want this pregnancy.

You can’t just say that. Your husband has left you the most precious gift a woman could ever receive. We know you can be a wonderful mother. This child will bring us so much joy, please don’t deny that to us.

And so she complied. She kept telling herself that maybe this child would really be a beautiful reminder of her husband. And when she finally had the baby in her arms, she looked down at him and felt nothing but regret.

She still hoped that she’d bond with the baby over time but that never happened. Her in-laws had her come live with them and they didn’t leave her side for the first months. After a while they went back to their usual routine and the new mother was left alone with the infant for long periods, thinking What now?

The kid was spoiled rotten by his grandparents. Maggie did her best to hide her unhappiness behind a polite smile, but at the same time she just did the bare minimum to keep the kid alive and wasn’t really there emotionally.

Maggie thought that maybe she could endure this until the kid was old enough to not want to be around her as often, but BY GOD was it hard. One day he was being particularly fussy and, in the middle of a tantrum, she finally snapped and grabbed him by his arm a little too roughly. He broke into tears, shrieking dramatically. Maggie had had enough.

And so one day she finally bailed out. She had previously written to her cousin, who agreed to take her in to live and work at the farm without questioning her.

Her in-laws were LIVID. What kind of woman abandons her own child without looking back? They continued to raise their grandkid as best as they could, which meant spoiling him even more and turning him into an entitled brat in the process.

The kid started hating his mother. All his life all he’d ever wanted was to be hugged by her, to hear some words of affection. But he never got anything beyond some headpats and faint smiles and now she was gone, that whore.

It wasn’t easy for Maggie to begin her new life, but she didn’t regret it for one second. With enough time she got used to the demanding farm life and became happier than she had been in a long time. She never remarried and lived a long, fullfiling life.

A couple of years later, when Grell was rummaging through her grandparents' belongings to see what she could take before running away in search of adventure, she found a letter addressed to them. It was from her mother, apparently answering to another letter they had sent to her in which they begged her to come visit Grell. The last lines read Do not contact me about this child again, he is not my responsibility, I do not have anything to do with him anymore. In fact, do not contact me again at all, we are not family anymore.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

If you've made it this far then thank you, I might have gotten a bit carried away lmao 🙏🏻

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Ok, so this is a bit weird, but it's based on a dream I had recently. If it's not your cup of tea, feel free to delete this. TF 141 + Konig with a s/o who is an alien … a literal alien who can shapeshift into any kind of humanoid she wants. But the boys don't know this. Perhaps one day she's a little careless and too relaxed and the guys accidentally see her in her true form. How would they react.

𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧

Task Force 141 (+König) x fem! reader

This is DEFINITELY my cup of tea. Absolutely love this idea and I‘m so excited to write this!! This is maybe gonna take a little longer (just to collect ideas) but I‘m definitely gonna write this because duh? hello? I love this Ask!

Also I changed it a bit… I hope you still like it😅

I recently had a dream about Zombies where I was bit but I didn’t turn😭 This probably was the most unnecessary thing I ever wrote…😭😭 I‘m talking to much… whatever, I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS💘💘💘

.･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

For years you had kept your extraordinary abilities hidden, skillfully blending in as a soldier, trusted and admired by yourcomrades. However, as time passed, you grew more comfortable and your guard slowly slipped.

One day, the team and you were deployed for a difficult mission, the air heavy with tension. You were feeling more at ease than ever, your mind distracted by the task at hand. Unknown to them, your transformation began to waver, revealing your true form - a blueish body with radiant iridescent skin, multifaceted eyes and ethereal appendages.

At that very moment, Kyle happened to glance in your direction, catching sight of the unexpected sight. Shock and confusion filled his expression, and he couldn't help but stumble backward.

"What the hell is that?!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief.

The rest of the team turned their attention towards you, your eyes widening in shock at the realization. Each of them felt a mix of fear and betrayal, wondering how long you had been betraying them. But you didn’t betray them. They were your family. How could you betray them?

König, ever the tactician, took a step forward, his tone serious "Y/n, explain yourself. What is this? Who the fuck are you?"

Your heart pounded, torn between revealing your true nature or fleeing from the confrontation. But the trust you had built with the team, the bonds you had formed, were too precious to abandon.

"I... I'm not from here," You admitted, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "This might sound crazy but I can shapeshift into any humanoid form. And I wish this was a joke…I‘m not a threat!"

Simon Ghost stepped forward, his voice stern but tinged with concern. With a swift motion he had your arms behind your back and your were pressed against the wall. "You expect us to believe that? How do we know you're not some kind of enemy, using our trust against us?"

The hurt and doubt in your teammates eyes was difficult for you to bear but you understood the skepticism. Slowly, you shifted back into the human form, hoping to regain the trust they had now lost. But Simons grip on you was still tight. And it felt personal…

You could easily break free from his grip but you didn’t. This would give them one more reason to not trust you. It would do no good for you and them.

"I swear, I'm not your enemy!" you pleaded, your voice filled with many emotion. "I've been fighting alongside you because I believe in the good we can do together. I swear I‘m not against you!"

Tension hung heavy in the air as each team member considered your words. Eventually, Price spoke up, his voice gruff but measured. "Let's hear her out. If she wanted to harm us, she had plenty of opportunities. Besides, we've all got secrets we'd rather keep hidden." Ghost was a bit hesitant but slowly he releases you.

Your heart swelled with gratitude for Price's empathy, and you took a deep breath, revealing more about yourself. "I was sent from another galaxy. I came to protect this world. You were close to a war and we couldn’t let that happen.. I was sent joined the army so nobody would suspect me. That‘s why I ranked up so fast…"the team began to see the truth in your words, realizing that your intentions had always been aligned.

"We will keep a closer eye on you but for now, you’re not in trouble." the team agreed to give you another chance, recognizing that your abilities could be used for their advantage in fight threats.

"Thank you." you thank them and focus back on the mission. The more details will follow after this mission and you‘re ready to answer everything single one of them. You trust them to not tell anyone and believe that you could continue to fight with them.

You found the family you had lost back then.

And you’re not ready to loose them too.

[ozzgin]

Dear Ozzgin,

I know it been a minute since I wrote and I deeply apologize. I didn't abandon the story I promise. I will try to get back when life stops being so hectic.

The next chapter might not be written or release until late September. I got some surgeries coming up and my oldest cat just went through surgery himself for a tooth removal.

Jack is okay! He just old and his teeth arent as strong and he broke one while eating his food, he is now on soft food.

I have a stomach surgery and hysterectomy coming up!

Life got so busy and I have been in so much pain, I never got any further and I apologize!

I'll return asap!

How are you? How is the community? How are your stories?

Love, Uni!

Dear Unicornymous,

You absolutely have no reason to apologize, as your life should always have priority, though I am nonetheless grateful to receive this update.

I am glad Jack has emerged from the surgery victoriously (as you, too, most certainly will). Caring for a senior animal is a bittersweet experience. They are no longer as independent, yet their constant reliance on us deepens our bond in new, unprecedented ways. In my case, sadly, only two out of six rats reached a true senior age, and it was an unforgettable time. May you create many more loving memories with your precious.

As I will have mentioned in a different post, my drafts are mainly on hold during the holiday, though I have some finished works I will share later in the week. The community is likewise doing alright. The Discord server has proven to be quite a lovely addition, as I have gotten to know people here on a much more personal level, and it’s easier to engage in casual banter. I also learned of a few talented artists and writers I wouldn’t have discovered as easily otherwise, so it’s nice to be out in the world like this.

I hope your surgeries go well and that you’ll have a speedy recovery. Those are some significant procedures. Know that you have my and everyone else’s support.

With love,

Ozz