#still something to betray his fear in that moment but still keeping a strong face because he's a hardened man who's been around this scene

[thecindercrow]

that Tomizawa and Dwight scene, huh?

[rebelscums]

Angel (Qimir x Jedi reader)

Part One of Angel

Ratings: Angst | Fluff

Summary: After the death of your master you begin to question the dark side and just who keeps appearing in your dreams…

The ringing in your head only grew as you opened your eyes. Your vision was blurry, but you knew that you were hanging from something… You drained your neck up to realize that it was a tree. You were stripped bare from your robes and something dropped slowly down your forehead past your nose… Blood.

“Master?” Your voice cracked as you called out to her.

The air felt thick and the smell of blood grew stronger, but you could hear her to your right.

“You must whisper, my padawan.” She whispered in the same predicament you were in, “It is hunting.”

“What is?” You whispered confused, hurt, and you knew you had a concussion, “What is going on?”

“They betrayed us and now they are offering us to the beast they fear from this jungle. It has already taken the other. We must remain vigilant and strong as we find a way out of us.”

You looked around, the moonlight brightening the forest floor just enough to see all of the blood and bones scattered everywhere.

Hours had passed as you both struggled to get out of your bindings without falling to the ground. You realized quickly that the tribe you were trying to help had drugged you heavily making it even harder to escape.

With the luck of the force, your master unblinded herself and swung over to one of the large branches on your tree.

“Stay still.” She requested as she began to untie your bindings, “Once you are free we will make a run towards the north river. Our shop is just across the river.”

“Okay.” You whispered as you began to feel the rope loosen.

“Almost…” Master Runh went to untie the rope. You were almost free… Almost.

It was so quick that you could barely see it grab your master between its large jaws and drag her down to the forest floor. Her screams echoed throughout the night as she yelled over and over…

“Run!”

Tears streamed down your face as you watched her get torn apart. Struggling to free the last not so you could help her… Save her… You needed to save her. You were so close.

“Master!” You cried out as her final breath left her body and through your tears you saw something or was it someone standing beside the beast over your dead master just watching you…

You jolted awake in your room with a startled gasp. It took you a moment for your brain to let you know that you were safe and it was only a dream, but but the wetness on your cheeks had let you know that you had been crying.

You quickly wiped your tears and went to the fresher to compose yourself. It had been a couple hours since you have been in hyper drive and you knew you would arrive to the next planet soon.

That means you had a bit of time to talk about your dream to Master Sol… Maybe he would have an answer for the mysterious figure.

“Master Sol.” You drew his attention away from the map he was looking at from where he sat at a table.

His tired eyes were now trained on you, a calm look on his face as he greeted you with a smile. He was an ever present and diligent master and you silently thought of how lucky Jecki was.

You have been missing master Runh dearly these days. She was a great master, someone that you could count on for anything. She was wise, and strong, and brave too… She aided and guided you as you grew up, leading you down the path of the Jedi. You were grateful to her for everything she has done for you. You believed in what it meant to be a Jedi.

Until she was killed a few months ago.

It wasn’t her fault, the two of you were betrayed and sold out by the tribe you were trying to help… It shook you to your core, leaving you with nightmares and sleepless nights. You could still hear her screams, see her body be torn to shreds by that horrible beast… A beast you barely ran away from with your life.

You remember it’s sharp claws digging into your right side, leaving you with a painful reminder of that night.

That was when the urges of darkness started to rise. A growing pain that settled in the pit of your stomach and rose to your throat almost like a scream. Your calm temper had grown shorter these days and with no other master willing to take you in during your last few months of training as you were too old and they were looking for someone with a more pliable mind.

You remember scoffing as you stood in the council room, an annoyed look suddenly spreading across your face. Not one free master would take you in so you could pass your trials. You almost threw a chair at the weak minded fools.

That was until you were placed in the care of Master Sol. He had graciously stepped up and offered to take you under his wing along with his current padawan. Master Runh was a dear friend of his and he refused to let her padawan be casted out.

“Yes?” He asked.

“My anger towards what happened to my master…” Your voice lowered into almost a whisper, “I feel as though it is getting worse.”

His gaze turned concerned as he lowered his voice, “I know what have you experience has been painful, but rage will only lead to the dark side. It was not your fault young padawan and I know that you will overcome this tragedy with great strength.”

“Thank you master, but my dreams…” You shivered as you remember them so vividly, “It’s always the same every night, but last night was different… It felt as if my master was warning me of someone.” You whispered, “There was…” A dark figure standing above my masters body.

My explanation was cut short as his former padawan butted into the conversation, “We’re nearly there. I was hoping you and I could talk before we go find Master Torbin?” Osha asked master Sol.

A torn look spread across his face as he tried to choose who he wants to help more… The sinking feeling in your gut at him looking back at Osha sealed your fate.

He started to say, “Maybe we could…” continue this another time.

It was the same thing you heard before and you raised your hand to stop him, “It’s alright. I should probably go get ready anyways.” You stood up from your seat and Osha quickly took your place.

“Another time.” He said again, an urgency in his voice.

You didn’t spare him another glance as you walked away, “Sure.” You knew you wouldn’t talk about it again.

You thought back to the figure in your dream as you followed after the group. Yord fell into step with you as he kept a watchful eye out.

“Your lost in thought.” He mentioned which seemed to work in snapping you out of your daze.

“I’m just worried for master Torbin.” You lied and a part of you hated the feeling, but you felt that it was necessary to keep the figure to yourself for now. At least until you can find out more about it.

“Mae has already killed Master Indara.” You continued, “Who knows what she is capable of.”

“The Jedi do not judge someone we do not know.” He said and his words twisted a not in your heart, “But I am confident that we will get to him in time.” He glanced at you, “There is no need to worry.”

His confidence made you cringe. How could I not worry when there was a Jedi killing assassin on the loose? Is no one here concerned? You thought.

It was safe to say that Jord’s plan to confront the mystery man was stupid.

“Or we skip that and she just talks to him.” Jecki said, “If he’s Mae’s accomplice, we can send her in. She can talk to him and we can record and monitor the conversation that way we have a lead on Mae plus we also get a confession from him. Seems like the most logical way.”

“That sounds like the better option out of the two.” You agreed.

“I’m in.” Mae nodded her head as she stepped forward.

“We will follow your plan padawan. It’s a good one.” Master Sol agreed.

That was all that was needed to spring into action on our mission. You watched as Osha stepped into the shop.

“Hello there.” You could hear her say over comms.

“Oh… Hello.” His voice sounded… Chipper. It seemed that he was happy to see her. Maybe he and Mae do know each other on a deeper level?

“Hi…” Osha’s voice trailed off as she seemed unsure of what to say.

“Hi?” His tone now held confusion to it.

“Come on Osha.” You muttered praying to the force with words of encouragement.

He continued sounding concerned, “You alright? You’re back so early?”

“I wanted to see you…”

“See me? Oh?” His light chuckle sent a pleasant chill you didn’t know the exact reason for, “Mae… Are you okay? Did the poison work?”

“That’s it.” Jecki looked up from the comms ready to go, “That’s all we need.”

“Pull her out.” Yord stated taking out his lightsaber.

You also made motion to grab your lightsaber, ready to head into the shop and confront the mysterious man before Sol put his arm out to stop you.

“Wait!” Master Sol’s sharp word had you, Yord, and Jecki all freeze in place. The four of you paid closer attention to the comm.

“You’re acting so strange…” The man spoke through the comms. There was a pause, as if he was assessing something about Osha, “Wait.”

Please don’t figure out she’s not Mae… You thought with worry.

“You killed Torbin without the poison.” He assessed with a light tone to his voice, “He will be so pleased.”

That seemed to be all Master Sol needed to hear as he said, “Go.” And pushed his group towards the man and Osha.

He was different than you expected him to be. A good way perhaps… He was easy on the eyes for a smuggler or was he a dealer? You weren’t sure. What you did know was how quick he was to sell out Mae.

You stayed partially hidden behind Jord. Your hood was up and your hand remained on your lightsaber as the stranger continued to explain himself.

“Wait wait…” He stumbled over his words as he tried to explain, “That isn’t my thing. This is her. I didn’t know what she was going to do with that stuff.”

“If you cooperate. We will consider letting you go with a warning.” Master Sol walked around him, assessing if he was a threat.

The man clasped his hands together, “Okay! Thank you! Thank you sir, ah… Please don’t do the memory wipe thing or whatever it is you guys do.” He held his hands up in surrender as he followed Master Sol’s movements.

You studied his movements, they were graceful compared to the nervous way he spoke.

“What is your relationship to Mae?” Was the first question Master Sol asked.

“I’m just her supplier.” He explained quickly walking around the room and using his hands as he spoke, “Yeah, I started out gun running for the hits and now I supply people like her with what they need. For the right price.”

He seemed to calm but too fidgety at the same time as if it were almost forced…

“Well maybe you could supply us with the truth.” Jord’s voice was stern and left no room for debate.

You hid further behind his stance as the man turned around. Not ready to reveal that you have been studying him intently to see if he was telling the truth or stalling for time…

“Who is he?” Master Sol asked.

The man gave him a confused look, “Ah… I? I thought he was with you?” He asked pointing back at Jord.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped past your lips, but quickly stifled it as his amused gaze tried to find your behind Jord’s frame.

Master Sol didn’t find it funny as he continued, “Does Mae have a master? Is someone training her?”

“Listen I have no idea what’s going on with that girl.” He stepped towards Master Sol, “All I know… Is that she wants revenge on four Jedi.”

The room fell silent as a grave realization settled… Four Jedi was stationed on Osha and Mae’s planet and Master Sol was one of them…

His eyes widened as an idea sparked, “If you want to get to her, she’ll be back here tonight. I’m holding some things for her.”

“Jord. Secure the perimeter. Keep an eye out for Mae.” Master Sol ordered, “Jecki get to the ship. Mae, you are coming with me and…”

Your heart beat quickly in your chest as Master Sol looked in your direction, “You will stay here and make sure that he does not try to escape.”

“But—“ Your pleas were left unanswered as he gave you a look. You bit your tongue and nodded, “Yes master.”

“Good. Let us go.” Master Sol stated, “Mae will be here soon.”

You watched with a knot in your stomach as your group left. How could they just leave me here alone with a stranger? You thought as you clenched and unclenched your right fist to try and keep your nerves at bay.

You tried to take a calming breath. You are a Jedi. You can guard an unarmed man. He couldn’t hurt you. This will go smoothly without any problem… You squeezed your eyes shut as the screams of your master rang through your ears.

You were alone then too… You but your biotin lip, grateful that your hood hid your face as you stared longingly at the door. You didn’t want to be left alone with a stranger… You couldn’t handle it, not again. Your breathing began to pick up, something that the stranger noticed immediately.

“So…” He spoke in an airy tone in an attempt to lighten the mood and get your mind off of whatever you were thinking about, “Who might you be Angel?”

[kishibei]

GUYS MY AGE ...

dilf! toji x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.6k words

summary: toji loves everything about his younger girlfriend, all except the overly friendly relationship she has with his son. to curb his unspoken fear of losing you, you fuck him.

cont: jealousy, possessive language, affectionate toji, missionary, mating press, no resolution, creampie per usual

Toji loved your body; he could never fight that little nagging thought sitting in the back of his mind— the one telling him to touch you.

Your boyfriend's hands were strong, holding a roughness that was tender in its own right— the honest pads of his fingers hardened from years of dirty work.

His fingerprints were practically committed to your memory, each one just a little different from the next. Uneven swirls and ridges winded into each other; tips tacked with scars and deeper indentations from his gunslinging days.

You could feel them all when he walked his hands down your body; even more so when he had you spread open across his thighs, teasing you with just a couple of fingers.

...

Toji appreciated the softer parts of you and paid more attention to them. Your chest, your ass, and the slight pinch of your cheeks constantly reminded him of your youth compared to his— a youth that appeared long gone when you'd met his gaze now; thin black eyes adorned with crow's feet.

His eyes held a vision that was faraway, a distant kind of look he'd always given when he was upset about something. That stoney face he wore never failed to betray his emotions, bearing them on his sleeves despite his best efforts at swallowing them down. There was only one thing that could've been bothering Toji; the same thing that had been eating him up for weeks— his irrational fear of losing you.

Toji really had nothing to worry about when it came to keeping you to himself. You were a one man kind of girl, ignoring the advances of any others who set their sights on you. He often scorned your younger peers, making fun of them without second thought, especially taking joy in tormenting the very man who introduced you to himself: his own son.

...

His first and only, Megumi was beyond fit. Clever, agile, and full of much more life than he was; Megumi was the spitting image of Toji in his younger years. Their striking resemblance was never quite something he saw as a bad thing, at least not until he began to date you.

It was the spoils of his own labor he envied— so much younger and almost perfect for you.

With the kind of drive that came with youth, Megumi easily had a long list of goals he fought fiercely to achieve; ones that he was never really shy to let you know of. He was shameless in this right, not even trying to hide his willingness to impress you in front of his father.

Toji would have been an idiot to not notice his son's infatuation with you. Only a fool would've choosen to ignore the longing glances, the lingering hugs, how the younger man always managed to look away whenever his father kissed you.

At times your boyfriend wondered if you’d prefer someone who wasn't this much your senior, mumbling his insecurities into your chest when he thought you’d already fallen asleep at night.

You had loved him just as much as he did you; your heart swelling with an appreciation for all things Toji. So here in his lap, you humor him; giving him a small reminder of just who you belonged to.

The man had softened up over the years but his strength still remained, thick corded muscle staying firm beneath the thinning skin he had cursed so much.

You hardly blinked; watching intently as he fingered the hem of the shirt he was wearing, peeling it off slowly to expose his muscular chest. His pecs were adorned with light blue branches of veins that shone through his patinaed skin.

Despite how perfect, almost god-like he appeared in this moment, the sight reminded you of his humanity.

You're not sure of what exactly he did before he settled down with you, how many people he’d really killed, or the curses that followed him in his lifetime; but it was a reminder that blood still ran thick in those veins of his, and that they sustained the heart that bled only for you.

“I love you…” he whispered, the sudden confession making you laugh. A giggle bubbled up in your throat before bursting forth into the air, a sound reminiscent of wind chimes escaping your lips. It was an infectious thing, lifting the corners of Toji’s lips to form a gentle arc that stretched from cheek to cheek.

He's impatient when he tugs your jeans off, not even bothering to remove his as he opens his fly just enough to pull his heavy cock out. You know he’s hard despite the fact it barely stands erect, his leaky head bowing under the weight of the rest of him.

You can't help but lick your lips as you stare down at it, eyes already lidded with hazy vision as he grips onto the base, slipping into you without much of a fight.

A shaky breath leaves Toji's lips as he settles in, hissing at how your hole flutters, already clamping down on him.

"Shit..” he sibilates, “so fuckin’ wet for me…”

The words seem to go straight to your pussy as you clench around him, whining a bit from the praise and the mind-numbing feeling of him sinking into you.

He’s so big, he knows he is. Toji’s fully aware of how he fills you to the brim, how deep he reaches, practically prodding at your cervix as he lowers you down on him. He’s teeming with confidence now, pressing down on your tummy to show you just where he’s sure the tip of his length reaches.

“Mm, you feel that, baby?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear your head enough to find the words to respond. Pushing past little whimpers, you stumble over all the syllables you need. Deciding it's best to give up on speaking, you nod profusely, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. Upon revealing your stupefied expression to him, he laughs like he always does; a low rumble that just drips in arrogance as it falls from his lips.

“That’s all me…” he purrs, deft fingers slowly caressing the rest of your body, stopping to squeeze at your soft chest.

His unyielding touch moves down to your legs; strong hands finding purchase on the back of your thighs as he practically folds you in half, pressing your thighs to your chest like nothing.

It's so much, and you can feel him even deeper now, every inch of him plunging into you at a disconcerting pace. You squeal as he pounds into you sloppily, pressing messy kisses to your cheeks, the tops of your ears, down the expanse of your neck, and just about every bit of skin he can get his lips on from this angle.

He loves you, this you know. And even if he hadn't said it earlier, the way he’s fucking you says it all.

“Ooohh, shit Toji!” you sputter, eagerly bouncing on the man’s lap as you try to match his thrusts. Your body shakes with the force of each pump, moaning wantonly as he slowly drags his cock out of you, ramming it back in your dripping hole again and again.

You seem to be growing dumber by the second, incoherent babbles and whines leaving your lips as he fucks the shit out of you. If you could focus on one thing, you would; but your eyes shift everywhere, rolling into the back of your head before meeting with the place where your bodies connected, watching in a trance as Toji’s thick cock disappears into your sopping wet cunt.

Toji grunts, his hips bucking wildly as he clings to you tightly, your back against his broad chest as he uses the force of his pounding to bounce you on even harder than before. He grits through his teeth, eyes shutting hard before they open again, his lips at your ears as a string of expletives leave them.

“Fuckin’ hell, ease up, you’re squeezin’ me…” he strained, jaw clenched so tightly that it looked like it might just break.

Toji looked like he was reeling, so close to the edge but still holding on, trying to push you over yours before letting himself go.

“Fuck…whose pussy is this?" he panted, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keeping his pace, his hips stuttering as he got closer to finishing now.

You couldn’t answer, mouth preoccupied with moan after the next as you tried anyways, babbling at him like an idiot.

“Mmngh! Y-yours! Yours, right?!"

It was difficult to even answer him straight, just saying anything, you jumbled up the first few words that floated into your hazy mind.

Toji laughed, taking in a shaky breath as he kept going, pulling your legs back even further as he slammed into you with a force that was overwhelming.

"Mine… all fuckin’ mine, you hear?!"

His pace was grueling and you were surely at your limit, crystalline tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he fucked you. Your skin felt like it was on fire, a deep familiar knot in the pit of your stomach just threatening to break.

“I hear! Hear you, Toji!" you yelped, mouth hung open in a perpetual 'O' as you teetered over the edge, right at the cusp of your orgasm.

“I can't! Can’t take any more, please!"

Toji amused you with a crooked grin, using his rough fingers to circle your puffy clit, the extra stimulation giving you just what you needed. You came with a cry, electricity coursing through your veins as you moaned wantonly, gushing around him with a shudder.

The force of your orgasm sent Toji straight into his own, groaning loudly as he emptied himself inside you, filling you to the brim with thick spurts of cum.

He huffed, chest heaving as he kissed you messily, slotting his tongue into your mouth just before he pulled away to speak.

“You’re so good… but just for me, yea?"

He pressed his lips against yours again and the corners of your mouth turned up in a satisfied smile, loving when he got like this. Toji grew soft, cuddling up to you as he slipped out of your cunt, a runny mix of both his and your fluids dripping onto his lap.

“Only for me…”

©2023 KISHIBEI do not repost, modify, distrib. or translate.

[getobitchs]

What You Took From Me - R. S.

✧.* content warning : angst, fluff ig?

✧.* w/c : 1.07k

✧.* n/a : nothin

✧.* tagline : @sugurus-thoughts ; (text me to be on the next tagline)

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚i

The Heian era was a time of elegance and tradition, where the beauty of the cherry blossoms mirrored the fleeting moments of happiness that mortals clung to. For you, life had once been simple, your days spent tending to the small garden by your family’s home, your nights bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Until him.

Sukuna.

You had met him by chance — or so you had believed. A man of devastating beauty and an aura that sent chills down your spine, he was both terrifying and magnetic. Sukuna wasn’t just a man; he was a force of nature. A god among mortals, cloaked in an ever-present air of danger and power.

Yet, despite the fear he inspired, he had chosen you. Out of all the women in the land, it was you who had caught his eye. And in an act of defiance against both his nature and the world that feared him, he had married you.

At first, you had been afraid, unsure of his intentions. But Sukuna — when he wasn’t reigning over curses or instilling fear — had been a surprisingly gentle husband. He brought you rare flowers, sat beside you while you worked in the garden, and listened as you spoke of your dreams and fears. He wasn’t one to smile often, but when he did, it was like the sun breaking through a storm.

You fell in love with him, despite the warnings whispered by the wind and the shadowy aura that clung to him like a second skin. And for a time, you were happy.

But time was unkind to mortals.

Your health began to wane, your once-strong body betraying you as the years passed. You tried to hide it, to keep the growing weakness in your limbs and the ache in your chest a secret, but Sukuna knew. He always knew.

He watched helplessly as you grew weaker, his frustration manifesting in the crackle of his cursed energy. He could destroy entire villages, topple kingdoms, and command legions of curses, but he couldn’t stop the inevitable march of time. He couldn’t save you.

You died one spring morning, the scent of cherry blossoms heavy in the air. Sukuna had held you in his arms as you took your last breath, his four crimson eyes fixed on your face as though he could will you back to life.

“I’ll find you,” he had murmured, his voice breaking in a way you had never heard before. “No matter where you go, I’ll find you again.”

And then you were gone.

Centuries passed.

For years after your death, Sukuna clung to his memories of you, reliving every fleeting moment of happiness he had shared with you. He tried to forget, to bury your image beneath the blood and chaos of his reign, but no matter how much he destroyed, no matter how many lives he claimed, your face always lingered in the corners of his mind.

When he was eventually sealed, he welcomed the silence. If the world had nothing left to offer him, perhaps oblivion was the only answer.

But fate is cruel, and the threads of destiny are never truly severed.

In 2018, Sukuna awakened, dragged back into the world through forbidden sorcery. It was a strange new time, filled with loud machines, flashing lights, and a world that had forgotten his name. He should have reveled in the opportunity to spread fear and reclaim his throne, yet his mind was elsewhere.

The centuries had dulled nothing. He still thought of you. Your laughter, your touch, the way you had looked at him as though he weren’t a monster. He had lost you once, and the thought of living without you again filled him with an ache he couldn’t name.

Then, one ordinary evening, he saw you.

You were standing outside a café, bathed in the soft glow of a neon sign, your laughter carrying over the hum of the city. Time seemed to freeze. Sukuna’s crimson eyes locked onto you, his heart — something he had long believed dead — thudding painfully in his chest.

It was you.

You looked different, your modern clothes and styled hair unfamiliar, but there was no mistaking you. The shape of your smile, the way you tilted your head as you laughed — it was the same as it had been centuries ago.

For a moment, he could only stand there, staring. He had spent so long believing he would never see you again that the sight of you now felt like a dream.

You didn’t notice him at first, engrossed in your conversation with a friend. But then your eyes flickered toward him, and the world shifted.

You froze, your laughter dying in your throat as your gaze met his. There was no recognition in your eyes, but something passed between you — a spark, a faint pull that made your heart stutter.

Sukuna crossed the street without hesitation, his movements as smooth and predatory as they had been in the Heian era. He stopped in front of you, towering over you, his presence commanding your full attention.

“Can I help you?” you asked, your voice polite but wary.

His gaze softened as he took you in, his crimson eyes scanning your face for any hint of familiarity. “Do you believe in fate?” he asked, his voice low and resonant.

You blinked, startled by the question. “I… I guess?”

His lips curled into a smirk, though it lacked the malice it usually carried. “You should.”

Your friend nudged you, murmuring something about him being strange, but you didn’t move. There was something about him that felt… familiar.

“Have we met before?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

His smirk faltered for just a moment, replaced by something more vulnerable. “In another life, perhaps.”

You didn’t understand what he meant, but there was something in his gaze that made your chest ache, a strange and inexplicable feeling of loss and longing.

Sukuna didn’t press further. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to frighten you or risk losing you again. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll meet again,” he said, echoing the promise you had made to him centuries ago.

You stood there, watching him disappear into the crowd, your heart heavy with an emotion you couldn’t name.

And for the first time in centuries, Sukuna felt hope.

[loeh]

Yandere Claude

Wherein you are his brothers fiancee but you we're so kind to him he wants you all to himself ( you'll be like the birth mother of Anastasia)

thank you for requesting! altho, he is a character who i find really complex, still it was fun writing for him! shouldn't have listened to too much skeeter davis lol. Ngl i think i made him too oc

Above and Beyond

Yandere Claude de Alger Obelia x Fem!Reader

Cruelty— perhaps the only thing Claude had ever known. His brother and his fiancée, you, were the only ones left in his life, the few rays of light in his otherwise dark existence.

You had been his first love, and though his feelings for you ran deep, he would never allow them to interfere with his brother’s happiness. But when Claude discovered the affair between his brother and Penelope, his own fiancee, rage consumed him.

Anger was too mild a word for what he felt—he was infuriated. Not at Penelope, but at his brother. How could he betray him and you like this, even after all that had happened? Even after you, the radiant flower of the empire, had remained loyal and devoted?

The realization that his brother had broken that trust for a fleeting affair shattered him. The pieces fell into place—your lifeless eyes, the absence of your once-vibrant spirit, and your subtle hints to Claude to seek a different lady as his fianceee. Everything seemed to make sense.

With newfound clarity, Claude rushed to your palace, only to find it eerily silent, as though no one had ever lived there. His steps quickened, and he made his way to your chambers. The sight that greeted him stole the breath from his chest. There you were, perched on the railing of your balcony. The moonlight kissed your face, casting a glow that made you appear even more ethereal than before. Your hair shimmered in the soft light, creating an almost otherworldly glow. He wanted to capture this moment, to immortalize it for future generations.

But what struck him most was your eyes—those lifeless eyes that made his heart ache. For a long time, he stood there, lost in the beauty and sadness of the scene before him. It was only after several minutes that he gathered the courage to speak the words that had been tormenting him. His voice was a whisper, barely audible against the stillness of the night.

"Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

"What could you have done? Nothing. You can do nothing. We can do nothing because we are just two powerless pawns in this imperial power play," your voice was eerily calm, as if you'd been waiting for him to hear these words.

Claude’s eyes softened, and he asked quietly, "What if you didn’t have to stay powerless?"

A small sigh escaped your lips, and you took a deep breath. "That would be refreshing," you said, almost wistfully. "Something to hope for. But…" You paused, the weight of your words settling in. "But I’m too tired now, Claude. Too tired to keep living this life as a pawn—getting sold off to the imperial family, and discarded by the man who swore to protect me from all the evils of the world. I’m just… tired."

He could see the effort you were making to hold back tears, and all he could do was gather you into his arms, offering what little comfort he could. But your exhaustion soon took over, and you fainted, collapsing into him, perhaps finding solace in his embrace.

That was when he made his decision. Rebellion. He would fight for you. He would lead a revolt, take down everything that had trapped you both. In a single night, he ended his brother’s life.

The next day, when you learned of your husband’s death at Claude's hands, your heart raced in fear. You feared you were next. In a desperate bid, you reached for the hidden glass vial containing poison—something your mother had given you before you left for the Empire. "Do not let anyone taint your honor," her words echoed in your mind as you stared at the sloshing purple liquid. You could almost feel her presence, urging you to stay strong.

But just as you were about to drink it, Claude burst through the door. Without hesitation, he snatched the vial from your hand and hurled it to the floor. It shattered, the contents spilling onto the ground.

"You're thinking of killing yourself?" His voice was gentle, but his eyes were filled with concern.

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I’m finally free," you whispered, your voice heavy with conflict between feelings of sorrow and happiness. "I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost the meaning of my life."

Claude shook his head, his eyes pleading with you. "No."

You looked at him, desperation in your eyes. "Please, let me go. I have nothing left to live for."

"Then marry me," he said, his voice unwavering, though laced with tenderness. "Let me give your life the meaning you’ve lost. Please."

The sweetness of his words, the sincerity in his gaze, reminded you of the boy he once was—the one who had been shorter than you, the one who gave you flowers every day and played with your hair in fascination. The once adorable shy boy as a man was asking you to marry him. His words were tempting, too tempting to resist, and despite the hesitations lingering in your heart, you found yourself nodding, your voice barely a whisper.

"Okay."

You both got married, and over time, began to heal the wounds of your past. The scars weren’t easily erased, but with each passing day, the pieces of your broken selves slowly began to fall into place. It wasn’t a perfect marriage—no, far from it—but it was yours. A chance to begin again, to start fresh from the trauma that had once defined you.

Then came the news. You were pregnant. It felt surreal at first, this new life blossoming within you, a tangible promise of hope. And when your daughter was born, small and fragile, you could see in Claude’s eyes something you hadn’t seen before: pure, unadulterated joy.

He held her in his arms, his fingers trembling slightly as he whispered her name.

“Athanasia,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. The name hung in the air between you like a blessing.

In that moment, you felt a quiet contentment fill you, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years. Maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay now. You had Claude. You had Athanasia. And though the road ahead was unknown, you were no longer walking it alone.

A little bit something more~

Claude stood in the quiet of the nursery, watching as you rocked Athanasia to sleep in your arms. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across your face, and for a brief moment, he let himself believe that this—this peaceful scene—was everything he had ever wanted.

He glanced at you, at the way you gently smoothed the baby’s hair, and something in his chest tightened. He had never thought it would come to this—a family.

He wasn’t perfect, and he knew that. He had failed so many times, but standing here, watching you with their daughter, he couldn’t help but feel that he had at least done one thing right. He had chosen this life. He had chosen you. And for the first time in years, he was proud of that choice.

In this moment, all the anger, all the betrayal, seemed like distant memories. There was no more war in his heart. No more need to fight. There was only this—this peaceful, fragile thing that was now his life.

And for the first time in years, Claude allowed himself to believe that he had finally found the one thing he had been searching for all along: peace.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭

Parings → Dad! Peter Parker x Mom! Reader

Warnings → fluff

Summary → Your son finds out his dad is Spider-Man.

(gif not mine)

The night had settled in, its calming embrace barely soothing the bruises and cuts on Peter’s body. You sat at the edge of your bed, focusing on gently cleaning a gash on his arm. The familiar red-and-blue fabric of his Spider-Man suit was peeled back just enough to reveal the injury, with the rest bunched around his waist. Peter winced slightly as you applied antiseptic, but his usual goofy grin still played on his lips.

“You don’t have to act all tough,” you teased, brushing your fingers lightly over the bandage you had just applied. “You’re not in front of a camera or public.”

Peter chuckled, the sound soft and loving. “Maybe not, but I gotta keep up appearances for my favorite medic.”

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed your fondness. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He leaned in, kissing your forehead. “Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Just as you were about to apply the last bandage to a particularly nasty cut on his side, you heard the soft padding of tiny feet approaching. Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned, spotting your five-year-old son, Ben, standing in the doorway. His hair was ruffled from sleep, his eyes wide and curious.

“Mommy? Daddy?” Ben’s small voice cut through the quiet of the room, his gaze locked on Peter, or more specifically, on the Spider-Man suit bunched around him.

Your heart skipped a beat with fear. Peter froze.

“Oh no...” Peter whispered under his breath.

You exchanged a glance with Peter, both of you mentally scrambling for an explanation. Ben’s eyes darted between the suit and his father, confusion clouding his expression.

“Why... why is Daddy wearing a Spider-Man costume?” Ben asked, taking a few steps forward, the awe in his voice unmistakable. “Is Daddy friends with Spider-Man?”

Peter swallowed, clearly caught off guard. You quickly stood up, moving to gently intercept your son. “Hey, buddy, you should be in bed. What are you doing awake?”

Ben rubbed his eyes sleepily, but his gaze remained fixed on the suit. “I had a bad dream... but why is Daddy dressed like that? Did Spider-Man gave you his suit, daddy?”

Peter let out a soft sigh, knowing the time had come. He sat up a little straighter, still wincing from the pain but trying to appear calm. “Come here, kiddo,” Peter said, his voice soft and gentle.

Ben hesitated for a moment before slowly walking over to his dad. You stayed close, your heart pounding in your chest as Peter took a deep breath.

“Ben,” Peter began, taking his son’s small hand in his. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time, but I wanted to wait until you were a little older.”

Ben’s eyes widened, his curiosity piqued. “What is it, Daddy?”

Peter glanced at you, silently seeking your approval, and you gave him a small nod. He returned his attention to Ben, who was staring up at him with big, innocent eyes.

“You know how you really, really love Spider-Man?” Peter asked.

Ben nodded eagerly, his face lighting up at the mention of his favorite superhero. “Yeah! Spider-Man is the best! He’s super strong, and fast, and he saves everyone!”

Peter smiled, though there was a trace of nervousness behind it. “Well, buddy... the reason I know so much about Spider-Man... is because... I am Spider-Man.”

Ben blinked, his mouth falling open as his brain worked to process the information. “You’re... you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter gave a small, sheepish smile and nodded. “That’s right, Benji. I’m Spider-Man.”

For a moment, Ben just stared at Peter, his little brows furrowed in concentration. He glanced at the suit, then back at his father, his small hands gripping Peter’s knee. Then, all at once, his face broke into a huge grin.

“You’re Spider-Man?!” Ben squealed, bouncing on his toes with excitement. “That’s so cool! My daddy is Spider-Man!”

The pure joy and awe in Ben’s voice made you laugh softly, and Peter’s nervousness melted away. He chuckled, ruffling Ben’s messy hair. “Yeah, buddy, I’m Spider-Man. But you have to promise me something, okay?”

Ben nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with excitement. “Anything, Daddy!”

Peter leaned down, bringing his face closer to Ben’s. “You can’t tell anyone. Not your friends at school, not anyone. This has to be our secret, okay?”

Ben’s face grew serious as he nodded solemnly. “I promise, Daddy. I won’t tell anybody! I’ll keep your secret.”

Peter smiled, relief washing over him. “That’s my boy.”

You watched the scene unfold, warmth blooming in your chest. It was a moment you had feared for so long, unsure of how Ben would react. But seeing him so proud, so in awe of his father, filled you with nothing but love.

Ben climbed into Peter’s lap, carefully avoiding his bandaged side, and started peppering him with questions. “Can you actually climb buildings, Daddy? How does the webs work? Can I have a suit like yours when I grow up?”

Peter chuckled, wrapping his arms around his son. “One question at a time, buddy.”

You sat down beside them, resting your head on Peter’s shoulder. “I think you’ve got a little fan for life now,” you whispered, smiling as Ben excitedly recounted his favorite Spider-Man moments to Peter.

Peter turned his head and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I think I do, too.”

The three of you sat together in the warmth of your home, the secret no longer weighing on your hearts. Ben’s small hand was clutching Peter’s, his eyes bright with dreams of webs and heroics.

As Peter pulled Ben closer, his arms wrapped protectively around his little boy, you couldn’t help but think how lucky your son was. Not because his dad was Spider-Man, but because he had Peter Parker as his father—a man full of love, courage, and a heart bigger than any superhero could ever dream of.

And in that moment, as Ben slowly drifted back to sleep in Peter’s arms, the room filled with a soft, comforting silence. You leaned into Peter, knowing that, together, the three of you were stronger than any secret or superhero title.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what family was—love, trust, and a little bit of web-slinging on the side.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[insidekatmind]

Meet my sister P.8-Jude Bellingham

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

wearning: +18, smut

Jude couldn't get that scene out of his head, and his pride had been wounded. The smile he'd seen on your face as you walked away drove him crazy, but it was also your provocation that left him speechless. He was frustrated, determined to make you pay.

When he saw you walking upstairs, his heart raced faster. His mind was focused on one thing: showing you that you couldn't challenge him without consequences. He reached the room and slammed the door shut behind him. His gaze was more serious than ever, with no hint of irony or amusement.

He watched you turn toward him, and you looked at him with your usual playful attitude, ready to tease him again. But when his eyes locked with yours, there was a hardness in them that you'd never seen before, and you froze. The smile that had been on your face instantly faded, and your body instinctively began to step back, sensing the change in the air.

Jude took a step forward, his face expressionless, but the air around him was thick with tension. "Did you really think I would let you get away with that?" he said in a low, firm voice, his tone laced with anger he wasn't even trying to hide.

You, still staring at him with defiance, couldn't help but feel your heart race. A subtle shiver ran down your spine. You didn’t know what would happen next, but you definitely weren’t planning on giving up.

"Do you really think you can intimidate me, Jude?" you replied, though your voice shook a little more than you'd wanted, betraying the tension you felt.

He didn’t answer right away. He took another step toward you, and you could feel the weight of his presence in the room, his breathing heavier. His body came closer to yours, but not in a sweet or seductive way. It was a direct, deliberate approach, and you couldn't help but back away, feeling the intensity building.

"I'm tired of your games," he continued, getting even closer. "Today, I'm going to show you that things don't always go the way you want."

His proximity made you lose your usual confidence, and a part of you started to fear that he might actually follow through on that promise.

At that moment, all the courage you had tried to keep disappeared. The words you had in mind stuck, and you found yourself silent, with the beat accelerated in your chest. Jude looked at you with a look you couldn’t decipher, but his mischievous smile, devoid of fun, made you feel that something was about to change.

Slowly, he approached you, and his figure trapped you between the desk and his body, forcing you to stay still. There was no escape, and as he looked at you with that expression that faded between challenge and control, you noticed how much the situation had changed. " You’re so quiet, it’s almost funny," he said with an ironic tone, as if he was studying you.

You tried to answer him, but the words could not form on your tongue. There was something about his attitude, his closeness to you, and for a moment it seemed like the room had become too small, too small for both of us. His breath became louder as it came closer, and your head was in confusion.

Then, without warning, Jude kissed you. It was an intense kiss, full of passion and anger, that hit you like a hurricane. An unexpected wave of emotions passed through you, and for a moment you forgot everything else. His kiss was not sweet or slow, but a strong gesture, as if he wanted to mark the ground and show you that he was no longer willing to play.

And you... did not reject him. In fact, unintentionally, you kissed him back. Your hands fell on his back, as you tried to stay anchored to that feeling that was overwhelming you. At that moment, the world seemed to stop, and all that remained was the sound of your breaths and the warmth of his body against yours.

While you continued to kiss, Jude spread your legs as he lifted up your dress and pulled out your thong by throwing it in a corner of the room.

He put a finger in your pussy and you moaned in the kiss as you started pushing your hips on his finger but Jude stopped your movements and lifted his finger off the kiss making you moan with frustration and he smiled sadistically.

"Be a good princess and don’t move otherwise I’ll leave you like this" he said in a serious tone as he lowered herself and began to lick your pussy and groan tasting you.

"This pussy is so good" he whispered without detaching you from your folds and began to lick while you groaned and tried not to move, obeying him.

Jude while he was licking your pussy with pure hunger, looked up to see you as fucked for him and smiled in your pussy, giving you more licks and sucks while you moaned loudly.

"Jude" You moaned screaming and he moaned in reference to how sexy I was moaning like that for him.

You were about to come and he knew it. He put a finger inside you as he started pushing it, and you groaned.

He just took a little bit off your pussy to look at you better. " If you want to come you better beg," he said while adding another finger making you bow your back.

Jude pulled out his fingers and slapped your pussy to make you scream. "Princess, what did I tell you about not moving?" He said to you as he gave you another blow on your pussy and you moaned.

"I’m sorry" you said breathlessly as you tried not to move and Jude smiled.

He added a finger again but was moving it slowly and you were looking at him in despair.

"Jude" you moaned whipped and he smiled.

"use your pretty words princess" jude mocked you while still moving his finger with a slowness that was killing you.

"please Jude" you mumbled he smiled pretending not to listen

"what you said" he said jokingly and you moaned

"Please Jude, I need you." you said with needy voice and he smiled satisfied as he lifted his finger and started licking your pussy with pure hunger and you moaned putting your hands on her hair pulling it and he moans in your pussy and you moaned of reprieve and your pussy vibrated.

He was licking your pussy with pure hunger and you were moaning pushing your hips on his mouth with sheer despair and he smiled as he gave you some suckers that were making you see the stars.

"You’re making me feel so good" you mumbled by now thinking only of his abila tongue in your pussy and he added again a finger while you squirted on his tongue and you moaned loudly giving a strong tug to his hair making him grunting.

Jude before you cut your pussy gave her a kiss and then stood up. You groaned as you looked at him and were trying to catch your breath as you looked at him.

He was a pure divine vision: hair with a blush, cheeks red, eyes full of lust, and in his beard there was some of your cum.

You groaned as you took his hand to draw him back to you in a kiss and while you tasted her mouth and moaned at how good she was at kissing.

When you got away he looked at you carefully as his hand flew on your neck caressing it while you watched him in silence.

"What? now you’re silent?" he said in a teasing tone.

Jude took his thumb and passed it on your lips and then put it in your mouth as he looked at you with lust and anger.

"suck like the bitch you are" he said and you moaned hearing his words and started sucking his thumb while you did not look away and he smiled.

Jude took your finger and looked at you carefully.

"Knees" he said in a firm and authoritative tone, and you immediately listened to him as you looked at him.

"You know what to do" he said and you nodded.

You started to untie his belt and lowered his pants and boxer shorts and then kicked his dick out and moaned seeing how big it was.

"what are you not being difficult now, huh?" he said laughing bitterly selling your reaction.

You started licking his cock while slowly taking it in your mouth and sucking it.

Jude immediately put his hand in your hair as he began to paint his hips while you took his cock choking.

"look how obedient you are now, you just had to be silenced with my cock, yes?" Jude said as he pushed himself more violently into your mouth moaning.

"Shit, this pretty mouth is so perfect around my dick" he moaned as you kept sucking it.

You moaned when he was pushing his cock in his mouth, you were liking it and he knew it.

"Look at you," said Jude, laughing as he moaned as he felt you sucking on his cock. You started playing with his balls while you kept sucking him to get it in your mouth.

"Be a good girl and swallow" he said breathlessly as you obeyed swallowing his cum and were starting to suck his cock again but he stopped you.

"Lie on your desk with your stomach down and get your ass up" he said as he lifted you up and slapped your butt making you moan.

You did what he told you and he started slapping your ass all the time.

"maybe you should apologize for how you behaved" say as he was poking the door with his cock and you moaned trying to push your butt on his cock but he stopped you and slapped you on your ass making you scream.

You were sure that you had the marks of his hands on your ass and this thing was turning you even more

"I'm sorry" you had said with a thread of voice and he smiled slowly inserting his cock inside you not to hurt yourself.

You both moaned while you finally felt it inside of you and started fucking you so hard that you could only groan.

He took a handful of your hair as it pushed into you with more force and marked your neck: sucking and nibbling.

In the room you could only hear your groans and the slaps of your skin that met.

"You’re so tight" he muttered, moaning as he pushed himself more forcefully into you and you groaned wanting more.

You came on his dick squeezing even more by making him moan and sneeze inside while you both moaned.

When you got off, you turned around and sat down while you watched him fix his jeans and he smiled.

He looked at you with a look that seemed to enjoy seeing how silent you had been, as if your reaction was the one that intrigued him most.

You, on the other hand, stood still, trying to regain some clarity, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. It was as if his words and behavior had taken over you, and that smile he wore on your face only infused in you a feeling of frustration, but also curiosity.

"I didn’t think I could make you stay so... calm," he said, his voice full of irony. He mocked you, but did not seem to be condescending. Rather, there was an implicit challenge in his words, as if he were testing you.

You felt vulnerable, yet there was something inside of you that didn’t want to give in, that didn’t want to show him how much it was upsetting you. But his voice brought you back to reality, and you couldn’t hold back a sarcastic smile.

"You really think you’ve won, huh?" you replied, in a more calm but provocative tone. "But don’t think it’s going to affect me. This game is not over."

Jude looked at you, his expression changing between fun and challenge. He approached you again, shortening the distance between you two, and with a light laugh said: "Does it not work for you? It seemed to me as you were looking for my cock more"

You were about to retort, ready to throw another jab at him, but Jude didn't give you the chance to speak. Without warning, he grabbed your face and kissed you with an intensity that made you lose all control over your words. His kiss, more possessive than before, made you forget everything. It made you stop thinking and just desire to be in that moment, without a care in the world.

When he pulled away, his gaze stayed locked on your eyes, and before you could react, you felt his teeth gently bite your lower lip with such intensity that it made you shiver. A small gesture, but it made your heart race, a mix of excitement and frustration.

"Don't forget," he said with a mischievous smile, "who's in charge here."

Then, without another word, Jude turned and left the room with confident strides. He left you alone, your heart in turmoil, your breath still shallow, as you tried to gather yourself. His words and that gesture had shaken you completely, but you knew this was only the beginning. And that awareness made you feel alive like never before.

It was impossible to stop thinking about him, and you had no idea what would happen next, but one thing was certain: Jude would never leave you alone.

[thursdayinspace]

There is something about the way Mulder learns to accept and seek out emotional support and comfort throughout the course of the seasons. With all the casual physical contact that they have going on from the beginning, he seems ready to reach out, but doesn't seem to expect others to do the same. He feels deeply, but he keeps it to himself; something he seems to have learned from an early age. He's had to build his life around other people's pain since his sister disappered. He doesn't want to burden others with his needs.

Scully's "I wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but you" in "Tooms" is met with a joke immediately to lighten the mood -- a flirty joke, but still. He doesn't think he deserves how much she cares about him. Caring is his job. It's everyone else's job to disregard and dismiss his feelings and not take him seriously.

Scully setting up their secret meeting in "Little Green Men" -- he seems almost a little confused that she really just wanted to see him. He doesn't react when the touches his hair before she leaves. He doesn't react when she briefly takes his hand at the end. I don't think those little gestures of comfort don't register with him. They do. He simply doesn't quite know how to respond to them. He doesn't hesitate to gently cup her cheek and offer comfort when she wants to come back to work after her father's death. But he would never expect her to do that for him.

In "Anasazi" when he says "Thank you for taking care of me," it seems like he has to think about that sentence for a long time. Not because he isn't grateful, but because he doesn't really understand why she did it. Nothing more embarrassing than thanking someone and hearing "Oh, I didn't do it for you." And he said some pretty rude things to her when he was drugged, accusing her of betraying him. Who knows how much of it he remembers, but apparently enough to feel mortified. He never wanted to hurt her, but he must have, and then, after all that, she saved him and risked so much for him?

The scene in "Detour" comes to mind, the night in the forest when she tries to pull his head into her lap so he can get some rest and so that she can keep him warm, and he jokes "I don't want to wrestle." She doesn't have to do this, he's fine. He's not being a manly man who doesn't need anything, it's just that she's offering something that's hard to accept for him. She offers him a place to let go and stop pushing on. And he doesn't think she needs to do that, he is not fatally injured or anything, he'll be fine. But she wants him to be comfortable. She sees him, and is there for him.

At his mother's hospital bed in "Herrenvolk," she reaches for him and he lets himself cry into her shoulder. It's not just an emotional scene because of what he's going through. It's that he's allowing himself to truly let himself go in front of her. She reaches for him and he gives in and leans his face against her shoulder, holds onto her, letting her hold him. Letting her hold him. That's the really crucial point. Who has ever done that for him before? Who has ever allowed him his pain and told him it's okay, I know you have to feel like this right now, I know you're hurting, and I will be your tether for as long as you have to lose yourself in this?

"Sein und Zeit" -- he clings to her so tightly, lets her be his lifeline in this moment, as he knows she wants to be that for him. Letting go like that is so, so scary. There is always the fear that it will change someone's opinion of you. Make them think you're weak. Let them know what gets to you, and then you will always always always have to deal with them looking at you trying to asses how okay you are in stressful situations. It leaves you wide open and vulnerable. Learning that she doesn't expect him to be strong, that she doesn't believe that things don't affect him, that's a new concept. It requires so much trust.

Being able to take an offered hand is really fucking difficult, especially when you've been conditioned to be the one doing the reaching out. Leaning on someone is terrifying. Some patterns are hard to unlearn. But her steady presence finally allows him to show weakness and trust her to catch him when he falls. It lets him understand that he's allowed to fall sometimes.

[cerastes]

FNAF but you are a Rhodes Island canteen staff on a night shift trying to prevent Ceobe from raiding the kitchen .

It's a late night at the Rhodes Island canteen, the Elite Operators have an early deployment, and supplies are looking adequate... That is, as long as no incident occurs. Unfortunately for whoever is on shift, Rhodes Island is well known for its late night incidents, incarnated in nefarious individuals whose gluttony eclipses even the most furious of Catastrophes... And the Elite OPs are not going to be happy campers if they can't get their calories for their arduous missions...

--Five Nights At Rhodes!--

Your objective is to protect the delicious ingredients in the pantry from morally bankrupt evildoers that would greedily consume all they can get their hungry little pizza fingers on! Play as one of four culinary heroes to keep those fiends away from the Elite's caloric intake, or face the crushing guilt of seeing Rosmontis go hungry with a rumbling tummy!

The Centurions of Flavor:

Gummy

"The sign clearly says 'Ceobe not allowed', why are you still coming in!"

Known for world-class fried eggs and a healing enthusiasm, this Ursine Defender isn't just a soothing smile to have around, and can use her very own Reinforced Door to fully restore and strengthen one of the doors to the pantry! No means no!

Matterhorn

"Ethan, seriously, you can just ask for a sandwich... You're messing our inventory of available ingredients if you take them on the down low!"

Bodyguard, enforcer, butler, and renowned chef, Matterhorn works with the finest Kjerag ingredients, and knows a thing or two about keeping unwanted company out with his Sublime Sandwich, which can temporarily distract would-be interlopers with its peerless taste and aroma!

Kal'tsit

"If you want something done right, sometimes you have to do it yourself... Especially when the would-be crisis jeopardizes the stock of instant noodles in such dire and relentless a fashion."

The boss always has your back in Rhodes Island, and this emergency deployment is no exception! Any logistic is an important logistic! With her Spinal Assistant, Kal'tsit can order Mon3tr to hold one door while she holds the other one! There's no getting a fast one in on this Feline!

Just A Canteen Staffer

"I literally just work here."

With no special abilities to speak of, well... It's going to be a long, long night.

Crooked Adversaries:

Ravenous Hellhound

The nefarious nibler, infamous for her indignant disregard for signaling, reviled for her Indomitable March: What she lacks in tricks, she makes up for in pure perseverance, relentlessly trying to force her way in no matter how many times she's repelled. The countless signals that say "Ceobe Not Allowed" are said to be a ward against the Hellhound. A useless ward, that is.

Renegade Interloper

He moves like the shadow of a ghost, a feared culinary assassin that will make your ingredients and food vanish into the misty night, leaving behind no trace. This Persistence Predator will oftentimes camp outside a door almost completely invisible, waiting for your guard to grow lax. If one pays close attention, however, one might discern small ripples in space where there should be none, or hear a faint music from the Interloper's treasured earbuds...

Prowling Miscreant

The hunter's creed is that a mighty beast is only as strong as its weakest point, and her eye is already trained on the canteen... And the habits of its handlers. You'll be Drawing Dead the moment you think you have a leg up on the Miscreant, as she'll first observe your habits, and then continuously attempt entry from the routes you neglect the most, usually by syncing up with the advance of other Adversaries.

The Ghost of Babel

Feared for their truly wild consumption habits and seemingly unmatched ability to find their way into the pantry, this hooded enigma's wiry, fragile frame betrays their supernatural wiles. This unique Adversary doesn't move in the same way as the others, instead wandering the Area seemingly randomly, concocting their Magnum Opus by collecting all sorts of information and intel that we can't even begin to comprehend. If this is completed, then the Ravenous Hellhound will turn into a creature only known as "Golden Ceobe" and become completely unstoppable. Due to their timid nature, however, they can only work towards the Opus by being in a calm state of mind, achieved by not being observed for a period of time.

The full game COMING SOON to all stores in Columbia, Victoria, Great Yan, not Gaul, and Leithanien! Don't miss out on all these Centurions and Adversaries! Preorder now and get a code to an early download of the DLC Centurions [Fiammetta Who Aggressively Doesn't Want To Be Here] and [Just A Canteen Staffer the Holungday], as well as early access to the challenging DLC Adversaries [Scary Guy] and [D.I.D.I.]!

[supernova1885a]

I love angst, make my fav characters suffer is basically a tradition.

So I have all this lore that I made up myself while playing based on confusing events and dialogues, so I decided to illustrate a little bit of what the transition from happiness = tragedy would be like in the relationship of these two. I don't know what the hell I saw in that spider but I love them and that's precisely why I'm going to make them suffer, you're welcome.

I MUST CLARIFY that everything I say in this post is not canon or is partially based on the canon of the game. Don't take this as something official, I just want to share a little of my interpretation of both the story and characters. Also that Shamura is a she/her to me, but I will refer to her as they/them in this post.

After Shamura found the others, they moved together to Silk Cradle and worked out what their new life would be from now on. Shamura made very strong bonds with they new family, but especially with Leshy and Narinder, although due to his insistence they spent more time with the latter.

They used to take him with them to their temple and show him the spider webs that decorated the place, as well as teach him to weave and other things. Being the eldest, they had to impart the learning of their siblings as well as help them assume their places as divinities. All with enormous love and affection that grew with the passage of time.

Years later, the five of them grew up and left Silk Cradle to begin to reign in their respective kingdoms. Because Narinder's kingdom was not earthly, he was the last to leave.

Shamura was the one who made and gave their siblings their robes, it was a last gift from them before not seeing them again for a long time. They could not hide their happiness, although along with it there was a slight feeling of sadness, but they knew well that they could not keep them with them for life and had to let them follow their paths.

Of course, there are times when with bad guidance the paths can go awry. Shamura loved their siblings, perhaps too much and that made them very permissive regarding certain actions that they did. Narinder was fed up with his position and decided to go further, breaking the laws of nature, Shamura had a bad feeling but when they realized it was too late. Narinder felt betrayed when they reproached him, because it was thanks to their knowledge that he had done what he did and now they was angry with him.

Maybe it was the tension of the moment that increased with each reprimand from they that caused him to attack them, maybe it was anger or he just didn't know how to control himself. From one moment to the next Shamura fell to the ground, a warm liquid began to stain their face, the screams of their siblings could be heard in the distance and a sharp pain began to overwhelm them. Fear, anger, sadness, pain, they had never felt so many emotions at once, they didn't know whether to cry or scream, whether to get up or stay there, until suddenly everything went completely dark.

Shamura was cared for by their siblings until they was stable, but the pain from their wound was not the only thing that began to bother them. With it came severe headaches, vertigo, dizziness, and memory loss. Despite all that and the harm their beloved brother had caused them, deep down in their damaged heart, they still loved him.

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I haven't worked on this beyond the main concept yet, but I wanted to share it with you guys instead of just leaving it to writing and my imagination! I'm thinking about making a few comics about it, I have a lot of ideas I want to put down here. Thanks for reading!

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hey its me who asked for your The Unexpected Guest, and it was brilliant! I love the idea of part 2 it makes more sense!

I loved your idea of once they get to Rivendell Thorins and readers feelings are explored and some spicy stuff happens

Thank you, and love your work!☺️x

(I'm really glad you enjoyed it! I'm really sorry for the wait for part 2 - uni work, work work and writer's block are not a great combo and I didn't want to rush this (this part also got WAY longer than I thought it would), plus I've made some minor edits to part 1 since I wasn't totally happy with it - been a hot minute since I wrote smut so I hope this is ok :D thank you all for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!)

(link for part 1 - warning for NSFW content below, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

ghivashel - treasure of all treasures, amralime - my love

An Unexpected Guest pt.2 (Thorin x AFAB!fem!human!reader)

The journey to Rivendell was taxing on all of you, though you couldn't help but feel most sorry for Bilbo. The hobbit was so new to adventuring - you doubted he had ever been out of the Shire before now - and you had decided to support him wherever you could as a helping hand. Just helping him set up camp, saddling his pony in the morning, offering him water, little gestures seemed to make a difference in his demeanor.

Spending time with the hobbit to keep his morale up, especially after the troll attack, did mean that it was getting harder to find a spare moment with Thorin. The two of you had spoken much more frequently since his confession, and you wished for more time, but the whole group was in poor spirits as it was. While they were all happy for you, public displays of affection were just likely to irritate everyone further. And Thorin's burden of leadership would likely not be eased while you were still on the road. For the moment, all you could do was keep moving and offer comfort to whoever needed it.

Needless to say, arriving at Rivendell was a weight off your shoulders. Even if the dwarves tried to pick a fight with Elrond.

You had all taken your time to settle in and relax, having taken full advantage of the elves' hospitality (and you were forever grateful for being able to feel clean after the long journey). When the group of you were provided with dinner and the inevitable food fight broke out, you were happy to see how everyone's spirits had been lifted. However, you couldn't help but notice your One stood to the side. There was a content smile on his face, but you could easily see the tension that still bristled through him.

You soon found him after everybody had retreated to their rooms for the night. It was hard not to hear him - the pacing in his room seemed to echo through the hallway, if only slightly. Raising your hand, you softly knocked at the door, hoping that he wouldn't be too stubborn to talk to you.

"Come in."

Even his tone of voice betrayed his stress. He visibly relaxed when you entered the room though, shutting the door behind you, and you felt glad to at least be some comfort.

You smiled in greeting, and spoke softly. "Will you tell me what's going on with you?"

"I assure you, I am fine. Do not trouble yourself."

You closed the distance between you hesitantly, giving him the chance to back away, and took his hands. "Please, Thorin. I can see something is troubling you."

"I am just... concerned. About the future of this quest, about everyone's safety." You saw a struggle in his mind of not wanting to be vulnerable, but he seemed to give in, and sighed in defeat. "I fear that people are going to be hurt because of me."

"Oh, my love..." you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. "You are the best leader any of us could ask for, and I promise you that you will not be the cause of any hurt."

He gently pulled back and looked into your eyes. "You truly believe that?"

"Of course I do. Those in this company are strong and intelligent. Perhaps with the exception of your nephews," you chuckled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile. "They are all capable of making their own decisions. They knew the risks of coming along, but they have all chosen to join anyway because they saw a courageous dwarf that they wanted to follow."

"I only want to do right by my people."

"And you will. We all have faith in you."

He pressed his forehead to yours again. "You're far too good to me, ghivashel," he murmured.

"All I want is for you to be happy, my love."

And with that, you tilted your head up and kissed him, your fingers tracing his cheekbones as you pulled him closer. It wasn't rushed and clumsy, as it was when Thorin first confessed, but slow and loving, every movement of your lips against his a confession of love in itself. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you flush against him, trying to feel as much of you as possible.

When you separated to take a breath, meeting his lust-filled gaze was all the encouragement you needed.

"I wonder if there's any way I could relieve some of your stress..." Your tone was playful as you slid your hands achingly slowly down Thorin's chest, and you heard him inhale as you stopped just at his hips.

"Amralime, are you sure? If we start I will not want to hold back."

"I trust you, Thorin." You smiled and nodded towards the double bed. "And we may as well take advantage of the luxury while we have it."

He smirked. "I'm beginning to think you came here just to bed me."

"Hey, I would never-"

Your sarcastic reply was cut off by him kissing you again, with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before. Maybe you had awakened something long kept under control, but any coherent thought of that was soon lost when he shrugged the furs off his shoulders and his fingers found the hem of your shirt.

Soon becoming restless feeling him trace the curves of your waist, you broke away from the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt off. Thorin did the same, and after some hurried fumbling between more stolen kisses, you were both undressed. His hands never left your body as he backed you up towards the bed.

"You are so beautiful, ghivashel..." he murmured, lips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. It was so easy to get lost in the sensation, but when he tried to sit you down on the bed, you stopped him.

"Tonight is about you, my love." You turned the two of you around and gently pushed him back to sit down, taking the time to admire his toned body as you knelt in front of him.

Thorin's eyes were wide with surprise and he almost looked as if he wanted to protest, but the twitch of his already hard cock gave him away.

"You... you don't have to-"

"I want to." His breath hitched when your lips traced his thigh, and you smiled. "Relax, my king..."

Any further protest was soon lost when you leaned forward and licked a long stripe up his length, wrenching a gasp from his lips. Your movements were slow, mapping out every inch of him with kitten licks until he was writhing impatiently before you, until you were done teasing and sucked his tip into your mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of breathy groans and muttered Khuzdul that you could barely focus on as you continued. Thorin twisted his fingers into your hair when you began taking him inch by inch into your mouth - his grip was firm, but never controlling - and when you started bobbing your head he was certain that he must've been dreaming.

Looking up at him and pressing your thighs together to suppress your own arousal, you watched his head tilt back in ecstasy every time you pressed your tongue flat against his tip when you rose. The sounds he made were so beautiful that it was becoming more and more difficult to control yourself. Fortunately, it seemed you wouldn't need to for much longer. You felt the tension in his body increase with every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue, and as your movements grew faster you wrapped your hand around the base to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Yet, when you next looked up at him, he gently pushed you away, denying himself climax.

"Is everything alright, my love?"

He leant down for a brief kiss, still breathing heavily, and nodded. "That was... incredible." He took your hands and guided you to stand, then pulled you closer to straddle his lap.

"Then-" You inhaled sharply feeling his lips and teeth over your throat. "Then why didn't you let me finish?"

Thorin didn't answer for a moment, too busy creating a cluster of pink marks along your neck. When he was satisfied with his work, he tugged your hips down to press his hard length against you.

"Because I want to finish inside you, amralime."

You simply nodded, feeling too flustered and on edge to offer any sort of response beyond a whispered, "Please..."

Thorin stood up holding you, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, and carefully laid you down in the center of the bed. He slotted himself between your legs and wasted no time in moving to prepare you. Pausing to receive a nod of consent, he slid one thick finger into you, and you gasped at the sudden feeling. He soon added a second when you began rocking your hips against his hand impatiently, begging for more.

"Patience," he chuckled. "I do not want to hurt you."

"I don't care." You moaned breathlessly with every curl of his fingers. It felt like so much already, but still not enough. "I need you now, Thorin."

"Who would I be to deny my queen?"

He withdrew his fingers and you immediately pulled him forward to kiss you, a soft gasp being pulled from you when he ground his hips against you, ever so lightly pressing against your clit. Holding himself up over you with one hand, he used the other to guide his tip to your entrance and, swallowing your cries in the kiss, he slowly pushed into you.

His hand found yours and your fingers intertwined while he waited for any signs of your discomfort to fade. It was an uncomfortable stretch to fit his thick cock, but it soon became a welcome sensation, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to urge him on.

He moved carefully at first, until your cries of pain became cries of pleasure, and soon his hips snapped back against you much more firmly. Each thrust hit so deep inside of you, filling you up so perfectly, and his fingers gripped your hips almost tight enough to bruise. You clutched onto him tightly, trying to stay grounded amongst the sensations. One hand was buried in his hair, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, the other was digging into his back, leaving scratches that you were sure would last a few days at least. Though it didn't seem to bother him - every time you dug your nails into his back, it seemed to be encouragement, and he relentlessly kept up his pace. It was firm and deep, but never rough, though part of you wondered how hard he would go if you asked.

With each thrust, you bucked your hips to meet him, trying to get more friction to ignite the coil of heat growing in your core. Thorin's moans soon grew louder, despite him trying to remain as quiet as he could, and when his rhythm grew unsteady his fingers slipped down to circle your clit as his teeth latched onto your neck again.

"Ghivashel..." he murmured, his voice strained. "I'm so close..."

Your mind was spinning with pleasure, and you felt yourself reaching your peak as well. "I am too..." you panted.

His hips shifted just enough to hit a spot inside you to make you see stars, and along with the attention on your clit and your neck, it was enough to push you over the edge. Your grip on him tightened as the coil snapped and heat spread through your body, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your cry of pleasure.

It seemed to last forever, and in your pleasure-filled haziness you registered Thorin also growing tense, and you heard his deep groan as he reached his climax and came inside of you. He felt so perfect, and you both stayed clinging onto each other, lost for breath, until you both came to.

Still catching his breath, he kissed your forehead and pulled out to lie next to you, and you couldn't help but whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He lay on his side, facing you, and brought your hand up to his lips. "You are so wonderful, amralime."

You smiled softly and shuffled closer, putting an arm over his waist and tucking your head under his. "So are you, my king."

You glanced back at the door to the room and chuckled.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should lock the door next time."

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request a Remy fic where he Comforts his kid who needs to have surgery soon and can't play the sports they like for a while cus of it? Yes this is daddy issues anon. You fill my heart with joy and whimsy. <3

And main reason I rq this is cus I have a surgery coming up and won't be able to play soccer so I'm coping how I can lol- love your writing!

Courage in the Cards

Remy LeBeau sat on the edge of his child’s bed, watching as they stared at the wall, trying to hide the worry that had been building over the past few days. Surgery was scheduled for next week, and the reality of it weighed heavily in the air.

"You okay, mon petit?" Remy asked softly, his signature Cajun accent gently laced with concern.

His kid—normally full of energy, laughter, and excitement—gave a small shrug, barely glancing his way. It wasn’t like them to be this quiet, and it broke Remy’s heart to see their usual spark dimmed.

"I know you’re scared," he continued, leaning in a little closer, "but it’s gonna be okay, chérie. I promise."

They turned to him, their eyes betraying the fear they were trying so hard to hide. "What if it hurts? And what if… what if I can’t play soccer anymore?"

Remy felt a pang in his chest. He understood how much soccer meant to them—it was their favorite sport, something they looked forward to every day. The thought of not being able to play, even for a while, was clearly weighing on their mind.

"You gonna play soccer again, I promise you dat," Remy said firmly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from their forehead. "Might take a little time to heal up, but dat’s all. You’re strong, stronger den you know. Dis surgery—it’s just a bump in de road."

They bit their lip, their small hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "But what if I’m not good anymore after? What if I can’t keep up?"

Remy smiled softly, leaning in closer, so their foreheads almost touched. "Now, listen here," he said, his voice low and warm. "LeBeaus? We don’t give up dat easy. You gonna heal up, and when you get back on dat field, you’ll be better den ever. It’s okay to be scared, but dat don’t mean you won’t come out stronger."

They stayed quiet for a moment, taking in his words, but he could still see the fear in their eyes.

"You know somethin’?" Remy said, pulling out a deck of cards from his jacket, shuffling them absentmindedly. "Sometimes, when I get scared—an’ yeah, even your ol’ man gets scared—I think about my cards."

He held the deck out, flipping through them. "Every hand we’re dealt, it’s got its challenges. But you play it smart, you play it with heart, an’ you’ll always come out ahead."

They watched him for a moment before speaking, their voice small. "So, I just have to play my hand?"

Remy smiled and nodded, placing the deck in their hands. "Exactly. You got de strength to handle dis, no doubt about it. And you ain’t alone. I’m gonna be right there, every step of de way."

His kid looked down at the cards in their hands, slowly shuffling through them as Remy had taught them. After a while, they looked up at him with a bit more resolve in their eyes.

"Okay," they said, though their voice was still soft. "But… will you stay with me? Before the surgery?"

Remy wrapped an arm around them and pulled them close. "You ain’t gettin’ rid of me dat easy," he chuckled. "I’ll be right by your side, mon petit. Always."

As they leaned into him, Remy felt a bit of the tension leave their small body. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but they had each other—and no matter what cards life dealt, they’d face them together.

[maidenvault]

RotJ makes a point of letting us know that Leia is Luke's sister, they've known this on some level for a long time, and he probably cares more about her than anyone in the world because this gives so much more weight to his conflict at the end of the movie, and I think this is a huge thing people overlook when they argue that him redeeming his father represents a rejection of the old Jedi ways of non-attachment. Because in the moment he has to let go of Leia and his friends to be able to actually save Anakin.

When Obi-Wan tries to convince Luke that he has to kill Vader and there's no other way, he doesn’t really discuss it as an issue of Luke having an attachment to him. I think he knows this isn't really the Jedi way but just like in the previous war, they don't seem to be faced with any good choices. Obi-Wan believes what Luke wants is truly impossible and, having failed to stop Vader when he could have before, of course he's trying to stop Luke from making the same mistake.

But it's significant that in the same conversation, Obi-Wan does warn him that his love for his sister could be made a liability if he's not careful. When Luke learns he has a twin and reveals how strong a connection he feels with Leia because he doesn't even have to be told who it is, Obi-Wan's response sets up how this will play into the climax of the film:

"Your insight serves you well. Bury your feelings deep down, Luke. They do you credit, but they could be made to serve the Emperor."

Then when Luke is brought to Sidious, he reveals to Luke that the Rebellion is walking right into a trap as a way to torment and provoke him. Luke gets angrier and angrier while helplessly watching the fleet get ambushed and finally does just what Sidious wants and tries to attack him. But it's Vader specifically threatening Leia that makes Luke totally lose control of his feelings and fight him in a rage.

Luke is basically facing the same kind of test he failed so badly in ESB by running off to help his friends. When Yoda is trying to make him see he's not ready to face Vader and keep him from going to Bespin, he says something that I think is such an underrated quote in its importance to Luke's whole journey:

"Decide you must how to serve them best. If you leave now, help them you could, but you would destroy all for which they have fought and suffered."

Luke is really lucky he doesn't get killed in Cloud City (or captured, which I think at this point could have resulted in him being turned). Yoda knows Luke is the one person with a chance of defeating the Emperor and Luke just about throws that away.

But at the end of RotJ when Luke cuts off Vader's hand, he surely is reminded of his failure at Bespin and sees the path he's starting down by succumbing to his fears like that again. He stops because he sees he's betraying his loved ones and everything he is. He can only throw away his weapon and confidently tell the Emperor to eat shit then because he's no longer afraid of dying or of those he loves dying. He's done what his father couldn't do and kept his soul intact, which is what Leia would want. Because real love isn't selfishly trying to save someone by betraying what they believe in like Anakin did with Padme. And it obviously has to be an incredibly powerful thing for Vader to see his own son able to do this, even comparing himself to the man he once was ("I am a Jedi, like my father before me").

We remember everything working out okay so it's easy sometimes to forget that Luke gives this triumphant speech when the rebel fleet is getting pulverized outside and things overall still look pretty hopeless. He probably expects he could die at this point. But like Obi-Wan in his own death scene, he knows nothing can destroy him now. And it's the love he feels for his family that gives him the strength to let go.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 24

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Baker And The Monk.

Notes: Looking back, I'm surprised how big this story got. Wasn't my intention lol.

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  24/47

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The others were still asleep in the morning when you had gone downstairs in the inn to drink some soup and enjoy a peaceful quiet moment alone before having to face the Monk again. Where to go from here? What with Percival, did he still have parents or was the boy on his own? There were a lot of things to think about and it was hard to come to a solid decision or plan. Your peaceful moment alone was interrupted when a man approached the table you were sitting at.

“I noticed you are sitting alone, care for some company to talk to?” He seemed rather friendly.

You were in doubt. “I fear I will not be very talkative.”

He did not give up just yet. “I’m quite the opposite, if you wish to offer a listening ear I might entertain you?”

It was starting to intrigue you. “What would you speak of?”

The man was an open book. “My successes and failures as a baker.”

“Fine.” You decided. “Take a seat. Start with the failures.”

He chuckled and took the chair opposite of you. This baker, whom was named Charles, was a friendly fella that loved to chat with anyone who would listen. Hearing how the life of another was so different compared to yours was refreshing. There was no talk of paladins or the war. It was just a baker speaking of his occupation with an enthusiasm not many still had. For just a moment, you forgot about your own situation and let yourself be carried into the story of another. That lasted until you saw the man look at something behind you, the Monk had came down the stairs and his attire was drawing attention. His attention however was solely on you, and how quickly you were to get to your feet and hurry over to him.

“Your surcoat!” you quietly scolded. “Do you want everyone to know we are hiding in this inn?!”

As you pulled at his arm to lead him back up the stairs, the innkeeper caught your eye and beckoned you over. With a small heart you went over to her.

She was drying off a tankard. “I was under the impression that you didn’t want anyone to notice he was here.”

It was a correct assumption. “You’re right, I’ll talk to him.”

“He’ll bring trouble in those clothes.” She nodded in his direction.

The Monk was watching the conversation, still waiting for you by the stairs. You were aware it was pulling attention to him. “It’s not our intention to-”

She put the linen towel down. “Follow me through the kitchen. I may have something in my quarters, he looks the size of my late husband.”

That was an offer you did not reject, you made eye-contact with the Monk and tilted your head to call him over. He understood the silent request and crossed the large room to where you were waiting.

“The innkeeper may have some less holy clothes for you.” you told him.

Before he could react to the jest, the innkeeper spoke up.

“The name is ‘Amelia’.” She proceeded to lead you through the kitchen of the inn, another door was opened and led into her large quarters. Amelia went to the large wardrobe and opened it’s doors. “Pick out a couple of clothes. Come back to the inn when you’re done.”

You thanked her as she walked past, she murmured something about how her late husband wouldn’t need them anymore. Her generosity was surprising, perhaps she had not always been as fortunate as she was now. The Monk had not set one foot in the direction of the wardrobe.

“Go on. See if you can find something in there for you.” you encouraged.

Slowly he walked to the wardrobe, and tentatively touched a shirt. “It was not my intention to cause you trouble. I had not considered that my clothes would be so noticed here.”

You strolled around the room somewhat impatiently. “A monk in an inn will always draw attention.”

He hummed in agreement. “I had not even noticed.”

That was strange to hear considering how perceptive he could be. “That isn’t like you, often you were the first to notice something out of the ordinary.”

The truth escaped him when he picked up a light grey shirt that interested him. “When I woke and saw that you were no longer in the room with us, my only concern was finding you.” The weight of his confession hit a second later, he almost looked in your direction but stopped himself just in time. A black leather jerkin caught his eye next and he took it from under the stack of clothes on top of it.

“You thought I had run off again.” you stated what was so obvious now.

He swallowed hard and shook some dust from the jerkin. “Yes.”

“I would.” You crossed your arms over your chest, finally daring to face him. “But you did not arrive here alone, there is a child up in that room who needs someone to look after him. Where are his parents?”

The Monk told you what the boy had mentioned to him. “They’re gone.”

It wrangled at your heart to hear it. “What now?”

Not even he seemed to know what to do, it wasn’t like he had experience with raising and looking after children, because even though Percival acted mature for his age he was still just a boy under that hardened character.

He walked towards the bed in the room and put down his choice of clothing, then began to take off his cloak. “He picked up a sword to fight the Trinity Guard, to save me. I will do all that is in my power to ensure he will be safe.”

“How?” It slipped out.

His hands slowed down on their task, his voice got quieter. “I had hoped to not be the only one watching over Percival’s well-being. He could use someone gentle of heart.”

It clicked right away what he was suggesting. “Using a child as leverage to keep me with you?” You scoffed and turned to head towards the door.

He caught you by the arm to stop you. “What must I do for you to forgive me?”

You pulled yourself free from his hold. “Stop trying to stop me every time I want to get away from you, that would be a good start! If you let me be free, I might be more inclined to seek out your company.”

It was something he would need to learn, to let what he was so protective over run free in this world full of dangers he had hoped to shield you from.

His hand moved along your arm until it could take hold of your hand. “It does not have it’s roots in trying to have control over you. I-…” A long pause fell. “I felt the loss of you for a day and it was worse than any punishment forced upon me. Hate me, scream at me, harm me… I surrender to your will. But I beg you, stay.”

You were hoping he could not feel how your body was trembling in response to his plea. “Lancelot, I don’t know if I can after what happened.”

He knew why you were so cautious towards him. “I needed no order from Father to wish for your trust. I meant what I said to you once, you are important to me.”

“Because I was the key to achieving Father Carden’s praise and love for you.” It came out bitter.

“No.”

“No?”

He stepped away. It wasn’t until he continued to dress down that you noticed how much his hands were shaking. “Your presence brings me solace.”

You crossed your arms again, hugging yourself for some comfort. “I hope this is not some elaborate plan to regain my trust and take me back to the paladins.”

He almost looked over his shoulder to you. “Do you think so low of me?”

Your eyes turned cold. “Why do you think that is?”

He swallowed his tongue.

You sighed. “But I trust Percival to be truthful.”

Not him… of course not.

You hated how you couldn’t help but look when he bared his torso and let the ruined clothes drop to the floor. “Your wounds look better than they did last night.”

It was as if he had already forgotten them when he looked down at his healing injuries. “I owe it to your kindness. I doubt you had ointment at hand to use.”

So he knew you must have went out and searched for herbs to make the ointment. It told him you still must have felt a form of attachment towards him. “You’re lucky I know how to make one.”

He slipped the shirt on and inspected its fit. “Indeed.”

To distract yourself, you strolled around the room a little. “Just so you know, I will be referring to you by your actual name in this place. It is best we do not draw attention to ourselves. I hope others here did not figure out already that you are a monk, it would starts rumors and rumors can spread to the paladins and lead them here.”

He had not a single objection to that. “That is alright.”

Suddenly he winced, a pained sound escaped him when he had tried to put the jerkin on.

You approached him right away. “Let me help.”

Again, he had not a single objection when you began to close the leather belts of the jerkin. When you gave a stronger tug on one of them, a chuckle fell out of him. “Is this an attempt to murder me?”

You rolled your eyes at the jest. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

The smile remained on his lips. He almost seemed to enjoy the slightly rougher handling.

“What happens now? Will Father Carden not wish for you to return?” you asked.

He was not sure what to expect. “I do not know. But returning will not be possible, news will have spread of my heritage by now.”

You finished closing the last belt and took a small step back. “And if they were to want you back…?”

He shook his head. “With broken faith? And after what I did? The only reason they would want me back is to kill me.” His eyes locked on your face. “Besides that reason, I know that if I were to return to them you would never forgive me.”

It was a correct assumption. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

He gave a nod. “It goes without saying that we should stay out of the sights of paladins. And I will try to see if I can find us a place that will be safer than here.”

Easier said than done. “Won’t be simple. We have not much more than horses and the weapons you carry.”

“We have coin.” He said oh so matter-of-factually, as if you knew what he was speaking of.

“What?” you blurted out.

He was confused for a second. “I-… I always have a pouch of coin with me as I travel. One never knows when it is needed.” Upon seeing your expression change, he asked, “Were you concerned there was none to survive on?”

Him having coin did not mean it would help you too. “Well, it’s your coin. Not mine.”

A frown creased his forehead. Realization hit. “Do you truly think that I would not share what I have with you? What is mine, is yours. You are my wife.”

You took a step away and handed him back his cloak. “Our marriage is nothing but an arrangement that has benefited everyone but myself.”

He held the cloak in his hand, feeling frozen in time and place. “Then it is time I prove what benefits this arrangement will provide for you.”

It had you mildly intrigued, but you didn’t dare to show it. “Put your cloak back on. I hope Percival is still upstairs in the room.”

He did as asked. “He was still asleep when I came to find you.”

You headed for the door to the kitchen, him speaking your name made you stop. He came closer again, stopping right in front of your nose. He intended to take hold of your hand but you moved it back a little and it made him abandon the idea.

He spoke in a quiet manner, “If it would put your mind at rest, I will go and fetch the coin from Goliath’s saddlebag and put it in your possession?”

You blinked. “Maybe you should fetch that pouch from the saddlebag before someone else does?”

His expression changed instantly, as if he had not even thought about the possibility of someone stealing it. “I-… One moment.”

Lancelot walked out of the room, through the kitchen and the inn, to outside. After everything, it was not strange for it to be forgotten or overlooked. It was also somewhat amusing to see him hurry out of the inn because of it. You on the other hand went back up the stairs up to your room after thanking Amelia and asking her for two bowls of broth. When you went inside, you found Percival starting to wake up. The scent of the broth was enough to wake him up fully.

“Good morning.” You handed him a bowl.

Percival mumbled the same in reply and went towards the bed. You cleared your throat to get his attention and he saw you point at the table. With a small sigh, he took place at the table to eat his broth. Just as he sat down, Lancelot entered the room and he went straight over to you. A pouch was put into your hand before you could even think to protest it.

Percival eyed you curiously. “What’s that?”

He told the boy the truth, “Coin.”

Percival’s eyes fell on the pouch again, slightly widened and very interested.

Lancelot noticed it right away. “She has a satchel to carry it in.”

The idea he fed was clearly aimed at you, but you were still a bit taken aback by the weight of the pouch that he had put into your hand. Never had Aldith or Cassian let you carry this much coin on you, they were quick to take it if they knew you had some savings. And for it to just be put into your hands now like it was nothing…

Even the boy had noticed the strange familiarity between you and him. “Are you friends?”

Your attention snapped to Percival, who was looking between you and Lancelot like he was trying to figure it out. Lancelot did not answer, he was looking at you to see what you would say. The last thing you wanted to do was alarm the boy by telling him that the friendship between you and Lancelot had come to a sour end not long ago, Percival barely knew the two of you and it would make more uncomfortable questions arise.

“We are.” you said, and noticed how relieved Lancelot looked.

“How?” Percival looked at Lancelot. “You killed the Fey, then how come you’re friends with her?”

Again he looked at you for an answer, but this time you gave him a look back that let him know that this was his answer to give. Lancelot struggled to explain it. “Father made an exception for her.”

The boy fired another question, “Why?”

He kept looking at you for help in this. “Because she is Ash Folk, as I am.”

“He only let Ash Folk live?” Percival frowned.

“The broth is getting cold. Eat Percival.” You turned to Lancelot. “The other bowl is yours.”

Lancelot was quick to ask, “Have you eaten?”

You gave a nod. “I had soup before you came down to the inn.”

Only then did he take the offer of the broth and took place opposite of Percival. You stashed the pouch of coins into your satchel.

You sat down on the bed for a moment, then let yourself fall back onto the mattress to look up at the ceiling. “You could use some more of that medicine I have given you, Lancelot. Charles told me that the market in this village is available for wares here everyday.”

His spoon stilled midway to his mouth. “ ‘Charles’?”

“The baker I was talking to before you came down the stairs.” you informed.

He continued to eat. “You wish to visit this market then?”

Your eyes closed. “I think it is necessary, that medicine will dull the pain for now, but when it wears off…”

“It would indeed be wise to be prepared.” He agreed to the idea. “Shall we go after this meal?”

Percival gave a ‘yes’ with his mouth stuffed full, earning a scolding look from the Ash Man.

“That’s fine.” you stretched your arms behind your head, enjoying the soft bed. Humming contentedly. A slight cold chill crept over the skin of your waist where it was exposed by your clothes that had moved up a little, it was not bothersome.

“Don’t you like the broth?” Percival suddenly asked.

You turned your head to look at the table and saw how Lancelot turned his head towards the boy. Percival was looking at him curiously, and perhaps hopeful that he would get the other bowl of broth for himself. Lancelot cleared his throat, and took a spoonful of the broth in his mouth in response to that. You smiled at the hint of disappointment in Percival’s expression and made a mental note to make certain the boy would have a proper set of meals every day as long as you could provide him with such.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The walk to the market was rather odd, you had to keep a focused eye on Percival who showed a tendency to wander off alone. Lancelot did not seem all too comfortable among the busy crowd, he was constantly looking around himself.

“Try to be calm.” you told him. “You’ll hurt your neck if you keep turning it so much.”

He picked up on the jesting tone. “How can you be so calm?”

You stopped at a stall with small curiosities. “I’ve spend days living among the enemy. It’s nothing new.”

It was a small lie. Being among a crowd was causing you distress but you did not want to draw attention, so you pretended all was well.

Lancelot noticed Percival had taken an interest in a stall a little further away and caught the boy by the vest before he could disappear in the crowd. “Remain in my sight.”

“It’s not my fault if your eyes are bad.” Percival bluntly said.

He took on a more firmer tone. “Stay.”

Percival rolled his eyes and came to stand a little closer to you, looking down at all the small bits and trinkets on the stall. Visiting a market was something you had not done in quite some time and it was the first time you weren’t doing it alone.

“I can see a stall further up ahead that is selling medicine.” Lancelot informed you.

He leaded the way to the stall, a friendly old lady was selling some basic necessities for those who dabbled in medicine. There was a certain set of herbs that you needed to make more of that ointment you had made but the seller had no stock of it. Another trip into the forest for them would be warranted. Fortunately she did have a few vials of medicine for when Lancelot’s fever and pain would return. When it was time to pay, for the first time you found out just how much there was actually in the pouch of coins. The small gasp from you made the others look.

Lancelot came closer, noticing your startled reaction to the contents of the pouch, by doing so he blocked the view others could have on it. “May I?”

Was he truly asking if he could use his own coin to pay for the medicine? It was such a ludicrous thing. “Of course.”

He took two small coins out and handed them to the seller whilst putting the pouch back into the safety of your satchel, then put the vials into it as well. Your attention was pulled away from him when Percival lightly tugged at your sleeve.

“Can we get a sweetroll?” The boy asked so very carefully.

Out of reflex you looked at Lancelot for an answer, before reminding yourself that he had said that the coin was yours just as much as it was his. “I believe we can?”

A sweetroll, after how brave the child had been to step into the Trinity Guard fight with him? It was the very least he could give in return.

Lancelot noted the doubt and put your mind at ease. “Yes.” He relied on his nose to find what the boy was asking for. “Over there.”

For you it was still hard to distinct all the scents, especially in a place so filled with all sorts of kinds.

Lancelot gave Percival an encouraging nudge against the back once at the stall that sold the sweetrolls. “They are fresh.” Then he looked at you with a knowing look. “Can you tell?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“No?” he asked curiously.

There was no ill intent behind his question, you could tell. This was just him being curious how well your sense of smell was now.

Percival pointed at a sweetroll, one that looked a little larger than the others of course. “I want that one.”

Lancelot hoped to improve Percival’s manners and corrected his way of asking for something. " ‘May I have that one?’ "

Percival did not pick up on what was being gently taught to him. “I saw it first.”

You turned your head, covering your mouth to stifle a laugh.

“I meant-” Lancelot sighed, but he did not want to make this more confusing. He would speak to the boy about this later. “Alright.”

Percival became far more cheery when he could eat his sweetroll on the way back to the inn. On your way there, the path got more crowded with people, and after having been alone so often the crowd felt overwhelming. Seeing a threat coming felt impossible like this. People were almost walking against or into you constantly, the many voices flooded your ears, you began to lose sight on where you were and where you were going. Your heart was beating too fast, there was not enough air getting into your lungs. What on earth was happening…

“Are you alright?” Percival suddenly asked.

No. No, you were not. “I…”

Just before someone else could walk into you, Lancelot placed himself close to you, using his form as a barrier against the crowd. “What is wrong? You look unwell.”

It felt embarrassing to say it. “There’s too many people.”

Lancelot looked around him for a moment and spotted a smaller and less crowded path. “We’ll take that path instead. Come.”

You barely registered that he had placed a hand on your back to guide you along. The second you were out of the crowd, you leaned against a wall to recover.

Percival looked so very worried. “Are you sick?”

“No. I’m not used to being around so many people so closely anymore.” You hoped he wouldn’t ask why that was. “I can’t even see if there’s paladins around.”

Lancelot spoke. “Do not worry. I will notice them.”

He saw the look in your eyes change, it twisted a dagger into his gut. You did not trust that he would warn you if he saw paladins…

The boy touched your arm to comfort you. “It’s alright.”

No one expected for Percival to offer you the last bit of the sweetroll, it instantly made you feel a bit better.

“No, thank you.” you refused the sweet offer. “Did that sweetroll make you so sweet, or were you always like this?”

Percival’s face flushed a little, especially when he saw the slight grin on Lancelot’s face who saw it happen.

Lancelot came closer, supporting you by the arm to see if you were stable enough to walk. “Are you certain you do not wish for something to eat or drink?”

You pried his fingers loose from your arm. “I’ll be alright. Let’s get back to the inn before we run into paladins.”

The Ash Man kept a sharp eye on you whilst the three of you walked back to the inn. Percival and him picked out the lesser crowded paths and at some point you ended up on a narrow cobblestone street. Houses were build left and right in a long line and at the end of that street was a blacksmith working at his forge.

Lancelot came to a halt. “Do you mind stopping here for a moment?”

Of course he would be curious to see what sort of weapons this village had to offer. “Go ahead.”

He gave a grateful tilt of the head and approached the blacksmith, you and Percival followed suit.

“Good day.” The blacksmith gave a greeting nod and halted his work, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Good day.” Lancelot greeted just as polite. “Do you have wares for sale?”

“I do.” The blacksmith pointed at the house beside the forge. “My daughter keeps charge of the shop. Feel welcome.”

Whilst walking the short distance to the shop, you discreetly handed Lancelot the pouch. “In case you need it.”

He tucked it under his sword belt, in those few seconds Percival had already walked into the shop and reminded you both that this child would walk right through fire if there was something he wanted on the other side. Lancelot followed him inside immediately and grabbed hold on the back of the boy’s jacket. One look at the boy and Percival knew that Lancelot was serious about staying in sight.

A woman who looked your age was cleaning one of the many swords inside the store, she halted her task right away when she saw Lancelot. “Hello, is there something you seek? We have many weapons a man such as yourself would love to have.”

You noticed how it took her a little too long to even notice you were in the store too, not that she seemed to care, her eyes were glued to Lancelot from the second he had stepped inside. It irked you, a feeling you suppressed, this woman had done you no wrong.

“A sword.” he answered her.

She gestured for him to follow and leaded him to a wall with swords on display. “See something you like?”

Oh, it could not be more obvious that she was not talking about the swords then. Even Percival noted an undertone in her voice and looked up at her questioningly. The Ash Man said nothing, his gaze waved over the wall of swords and then he picked one off of the wall. He created some distance and spun the sword in his hand a few times.

“No.” he said, dissatisfied. The sword was placed back and another was put to the test, and another… and another…

You were watching the picky twit, starting to feel embarrassed for how he turned down sword after sword. “What exactly are you looking for?”

He smiled at the slightly annoyed tone. “Balance.”

“Balance?” Percival parroted. “It’s a sword. You just have to hit someone with it.”

He inspected the crossguard of the sword whilst explaining it to the boy. “A sword must have a good balance to control it well. It must be strong, not just the blade but the pommel and crossguard as well. A blade alone will not offer much aid in a sword fight without a strong pommel.”

The blacksmith’s daughter approached him now that he was just looking at the details of the pommel. “Spoken as a true swordsman. You are in need of a new sword then?”

She placed her hand on his lower arm, he looked at her hand right away. The sight of it bothered you, it shouldn’t have, not after all that had happened.

“No.” He finally read her intentions from her face. “It is for her.”

You saw him gesture your way and stared back at him in surprise. A sword, for you? Truly?

“Oh… I see… of course.” she stammered and stepped back.

When he beckoned for you to come closer, you became very aware of the sets of eyes on you. It felt a little awkward to approach him.

Upon seeing the reluctance, he approached you himself. He stood at your side and placed the sword into your hands, with your state from earlier in mind he behaved as gentle as he knew he could be. “See? Perfectly balanced steel. The right length for you to wield, a strong crossguard that can be used as a weapon in itself.”

The enthusiasm with which he spoke was infectious, if someone knew what sort of sword was good it had to be him. And with the way he was touching your arm and hands, you struggled to fully focus on the details of the sword he was explaining about.

He stood half against you. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

“Yes.” It flopped out, as if air decided to flee your lungs before the rest of your body could.

He looked at the shopkeeper. “We’ll take the sword.”

“Very well.” She sounded a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in the other matters that she had wanted to offer.

He made an observation. “She needs a belt and sheath for it.”

“Of course.” She went to a hook on the wall that held multiple sorts of belts and helped you pick one out, then she attached the sheath to it.

Lancelot approved of the ensemble and was seemingly wondering if there could be more added to the belt that would be useful. “A small pouch for it?”

That sure sounded handy to store small things in. “I’d love that.”

With a polite gesture of his hand, he told the shopkeeper to add it to the ensemble. Then there you stood, with a proper weapon belt and a sword at your hip, the joy it brought was refreshing.

“Will that be all?” The shopkeeper asked.

Percival piped up, “I want a knife.”

“No.” Lancelot denied that request.

The boy fired back. “Mine was stolen! By the people you lived with.”

The way the child glared at him and gave him a warning look… It was a blessing that he had not referred to them as paladins.

Lancelot looked at you for advice. Was it proper to give the young boy a knife?

You mistook the look he gave. “If the sword is too costly for Percival to get a knife, I will manage without a sword.”

He sighed and looked towards the shopkeeper. “Do you have something appropriate for one of his age to use?”

“My ‘age’ ?” Percival glared at him. “What’s that got to do with it?”

You snorted a laugh, curious how Lancelot was going to talk himself out of this one. And apparently he considered it wise to not answer Percival’s bait for a battle. Thankfully the shopkeeper sensed the mood of the boy shifting in the wrong direction and quickly handed a knife to Lancelot.

He inspected the knife before giving it to Percival. “Good?”

The boy got very cheery instantly again, and with a wide grin he nodded up to him. The sword and knife were paid for and the shopkeeper bid you all a good evening. Indeed evening had arrived over the land, there were far less people on the streets now. With a sword that you could rest your hand on, you felt more at ease. Had this been Lancelot’s intention, for you to feel less threatened by the crowd? It worked.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Before entering the inn, the three of you stopped by the horses. They were indeed being fed and taken care of, the innkeeper was one of the better ones out there it seemed.

“I miss Bear.” you said quietly whilst brushing the coat of the horse, that you had stolen from the paladins, with some straw. Lancelot was beside you, tending to Goliath’s coat.

Percival had heard it too. “Who’s ‘Bear’?”

“My own horse.” you told him. “This is the one I stole from the paladins. He’s sweet too, but he’s not Bear.”

The boy pouted a bit. “Where is Bear?”

You sighed. “Still at the paladin camp, I think.”

“He will be alright.” Lancelot reassured. “A good horse is always valuable, they will treat him well.”

You hoped he was right about that. “I hope so.”

After tending to the horses, you headed into the inn. The scent of warm potatoes and vegetables hanged inside the place, it was a warm welcome to your nostrils.

“I’m hungry.” Percival said the second you walked into the inn.

“I will ask the innkeeper for meals. Do we eat in the room?” you asked them.

“Yes.” Lancelot was quick to reply. The visit to the market had been enough risks for the day.

He did not have the heart to remind the boy that he had eaten a sweetroll not long ago, considering one of the ways to win the war against the Fey had been to burn their mills to cause famine amongst them.

As you walked towards the bar, he took Percival up to the room. Amelia was already looking at you, awaiting the interaction whilst she brushed a stray lock of her curly black hair behind her ear.

“That is a fine looking sword.” She nodded down at the sword resting at your hip. “Went to the market then?”

The wish for small talk was shared. “Yes. I needed more medicine for my friend.”

Her eyes narrowed for a blink. “That man you are with is your ‘friend’?”

Friend… it was the only way you could describe him that wouldn’t draw attention.

You worried what her reaction meant. “Yes…”

“I thought he was your lover.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And the boy?”

Rumors could be born so easily… at least Amelia was not afraid to ask for the truth. “Percival’s parents died, he only has us now.”

She hummed and filled some plates with the stew she had prepared for those at the inn. Her voice was just loud enough for you to hear. “Not many know what the Weeping Monk looks like, the people speak of him as if he is a ghost. Those who have not seen his face, or heard the stories, will not recognize him. But I have heard the stories. So tell me, should I be concerned?”

Your hands got clammy. She knew… she knew… “He is not a ghost, nor a monster. He will do you no harm.”

At least you hoped that was true, and that this was not some elaborate plan of his to get your trust back and return you to Father Carden.

She stared you down for a second, then gave a nod and placed the plates in front of your nose. “Be careful. Someone like him must have dangerous enemies, do not find yourself in the midst of it.”

If only she knew that you were already standing in the midst of it all. You took the plates to carefully carry them up the stairs. “Thank you for the meals.”

“You’re welcome. And once your ‘friend’-” she truly enunciated the word, “-feels better, do ask him if he could be so kind to move some of the lumber from behind the inn inside for the fireplace. There is no rush, but I would appreciate the help.”

It was a small favor to ask for in return for the hospitality she had shown. “I will ask. And he is truly just a friend, that is already complicated enough as it is.”

Her voice got a little louder, as if she meant to embarrass you in a playful way, “Perhaps it is complicated because he keeps imagining all the sins he would commit if he were to get you into bed.”

It caused your cheeks to burn. You tried to hush her. “What?! No! Of course not! He’s not like that-”

She arched a brow after you said the last part. “He’s not?”

Doubt was dripping off her tone and her expression, it only got you more flustered. She was such an open personality, unafraid to voice her thoughts and opinions and you found yourself at their mercy.

“He’s not.” you said firmly. Aware that your expression did not match the confidence of your voice.

A cheeky laugh escaped her. “Alright, don’t get so nervous. Who would I be to judge you for seeking some comfort in the arms of a monk?”

You rolled your eyes and turned away from her, carrying the plates in hand to carry them up the stairs. “You should write a book with that kind of imagination, Amelia.”

A laugh rippled through her chest and the sound followed you up the stairs, it wasn’t until you were in the room and had closed the door that you finally stopped hearing it. You placed the plates of stew down on the table. Percival was at the table not a blink of an eye later, Lancelot was more patient in his approach. He did not sit down yet when he saw you ignore the meal to attach your dagger to your new belt as well.

You finally noticed once you were done with the task. “Go on, sit. You don’t have to wait for me, you need your meals to get healthy again.”

“So do you.” he said whilst taking seat beside Percival.

You took the remaining plate of stew to eat on the bed. “How are your wounds? Is that ointment still working?”

“It is wearing off I believe.” He took a bite. “The vials will bring some relief.”

Those vials were good for fever, but you were not sure how well it would work against dirt getting into the wounds. “But you need ointment to protect you from infections, and it helps to quicken the process of healing. I’ll go search for what I need after the meal.”

He shook his head. “Tomorrow is better.”

You frowned. “But-”

He would not hear it. “There is no need to scour the woods for me at night. I will not perish within hours. You should concern yourself over your own health more, have your own bruises even healed yet?”

“ Fine, I’ll go tomorrow.” you agreed to it. “And they’re almost gone.”

“How did you get bruises?” Percival asked with his mouth full.

“Paladins.” You spared the boy of the darker truth, drank the last of the broth that was left of the stew and put the plate down on the bed.

Lancelot scolded the boy for the lack of manners. “Do not talk with a full mouth.”

“Why?” Percival asked with his mouth still full.

“It is not proper.”

“Why?”

Lancelot sighed when the boy kept speaking whilst he chewed. “I can see right into your mouth. It ruins the appetite.”

Percival rolled his eyes and finally swallowed the food down. “Then don’t look.”

Those two conversing was so entertaining to watch. Lancelot trying to help the boy learn some manners, whilst the boy reacted to it as if Lancelot was exaggerating. The patience he had with the child was admirable. You watched their entire interaction, and Percival proved quite talented at trying to change the topic when it was most convenient for him.

An unexpected question of the boy derailed their entire conversation. “That man that talked to you before you fought those masked paladins, why did he ask if I could smell the Fey? Can you smell who is Fey?”

Lancelot had finished his plate not long after Percival had, and confirmed what the boy believed to be true. “Ash Folk have a strong sense of smell. Fey kind gives of a different sort of scent than Manblood.”

The boy looked somewhat confused. “Different how?”

He leaned back into the chair. “Imagine it as a cloak hanging over them at all times, a fresh scent much like young grass. It is different for all Fey, but it always smells similar to what one can find in the woods.”

You had never been able to put the scent into words, but his description made complete sense. “It prickles the nose.”

His attention turned to you. “Yes.”

“But not in a bad way.” you assured Percival. “I can’t pick up on scents as good as he can, but his description fits.”

Lancelot was glad to hear that you experienced it in a similar way. “I can ignore most scents, it would overwhelm my senses too greatly otherwise. But I will always notice the Fey scent.”

“Because you used it to find us?” Percival was starting to piece the puzzle together again.

Lancelot gave a small nod, aware how even the boy must have realized how terrible it was that a Fey had used his abilities against his own kind.

It lead Percival to chase the truth. “Why were you with them? If you’re Fey, why did you fight against us?”

You didn’t want this to end in trouble. “Percival-”

“It’s alright.” Lancelot said to you. “He has a right to know.”

You rose from the bed and approached Percival, leaning onto the back of the chair with your arm as Lancelot began his story. He told the boy how he ended up in the hands of Father Carden, what was expected of him and why. Percival had not been so quiet in quite some time, often a look of confusion set in his eyes to which Lancelot explained a little more.

“Do you really think we’re damned?” The boy asked.

Lancelot got quieter. “I do not know what to believe anymore.”

Percival looked down for a second, chewing his lip. “But you won’t hurt the Fey anymore?”

That was at least one thing he was certain of. “No. Not unless it is to defend us from danger.”

To the boy it was an agreeable condition. Percival still had some questions that were a little less hard to answer, mostly about how monks lived and how they prayed. You did notice that Lancelot was careful not to mention how they used the scourge on themselves. The memory of the wounds he had inflicted upon himself the last time he had done so was etched into your mind, you doubted those were not still hurting him even just sitting there.

    “Alright.” You grabbed their empty plates. “Whilst you two talk further, I’m taking these downstairs before it attracts flies into the room.”

They barely acknowledged the announcement, Percival was too engulfed in what Lancelot was telling him and Lancelot was too concentrated on not saying something that the boy was too young to hear about. So you headed down to the inn, Amelia was sweeping the floor and gave a grateful nod when she saw you carrying the plates down.

“To lessen some of your workload.” You held the plates up. “Do I put them in the kitchen?”

“Please do. Thank you.” She continued her task of cleaning the inn for the night.

The baker, Charles, was still up and sat at a table alone, you had to walk past him to go to the kitchen. “Care to offer a listening ear again, or perhaps accept one for yourself?”

You walked past him. “My ears always listen. I’ll put these in the kitchen first.”

Once you returned from the kitchen, he was awaiting your presence and leaned over the table to move the other chair so you could sit. Again he told of his life, about how before he became a baker he dreamed of being a bard, and when he offered to play on his lute you had to tell him that those already asleep in the inn upstairs might not appreciate the music at that hour. He was rather sweet, it was nice to listen to him talk. He had some quite amusing stories to tell about how some patrons would empty out a loaf of bread and try to return the shell of it to get their coin back.

Charles leaned a little closer over the table, his hands wrapped around the tankard that was long since emptied. “And you, what sort of stories can you tell me?”

It made you get evasive. “I’m not that interesting.”

He tsk-ed. “Nonsense. I see stories in those beautiful eyes.”

“‘Beautiful eyes’?” A chuckle escaped you. It had been a while since such flattery had been aimed your way.

“Not used to flattery?” he sounded surprised. “Hard to believe from someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” You had a cheeky grin.

“I enjoy your company and would love to enjoy it for the rest of the night.” Charles made no secret of his intentions, especially when he reached over to place a hand over your own.

A plate was put down on the table between you and Charles, who jolted back in his chair from the loud clattering it made. You reacted the same way, your heartbeat spiked. It was not Amelia who had put the plate down on the table, no, Lancelot had brought down your empty plate that you had forgotten upstairs in the room.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Charles asked rightfully irritated.

    "Her husband.”

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Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

[lendeah]

After the Weave 1.

series masterlist

Summary:

After defeating the Nether Brain, Gale makes a promise to Tav: he will move to Waterdeep and marry her. However, he breaks his pledge when he feels the pull of his former goddess, Mystra, and leaves to forge the Karsus Crown and become a god, which leaves Tav feeling betrayed and alone.

Astarion, now fully consumed by the shadows, offers Tav a new mission. Together, they try to rebuild themselves and move on from their past. As they rely on each other in unexpected ways, they find a new sense of purpose and meaning, and realize that fate will always lead you back to where you belong.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, language.

Also on AO3

Being with him was like being enveloped in a warm, golden glow; his presence adding vibrancy and light to every moment. Even in the bleakest moments, when I felt lost in the chaos of battle, he remained a constant beacon of hope and love. His strong arms always provided support and comfort, our souls intertwining in ways I never thought possible. But every now and then, when the chaos around us subsided and we had a moment of peace, Gale would pull me away from the rest of our troop. We would find a quiet spot, away from prying eyes, and just be together. In those moments, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. It was just him and me.

"With you, I forget my goddess. I love you" he had whispered in my ear, under a sea of stars. And in that moment, it felt like all of my doubts and fears disappeared. Gale's love for me was real and true; it was something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of war.

So as we stood victorious over the defeated Brain, I turned to the wizard with a triumphant smile and tears streaming down my cheeks. This was what we had risked our lives for, what we had fought and bled for.

"Beloved," Gale whispered, his voice brimming with emotion. "We have faced countless perils together, defying fate itself. Our love has withstood trials and tribulations that most would crumble under. I cannot fathom another day without you by my side."He took a step closer, our bodies gravitating towards each other as if pulled by an invisible force.

The crashing waves and salty sea air filled their lungs as they stood on the decks of the city, overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over our faces. "Let us leave this place," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We should go back home to Waterdeep. We can build a life together, away from the battles and the constant threat of danger. We can find solace in each other's arms, and create a haven where love and peace reign supreme." he took a deep breath, mustering the courage to add, "Let's get married." His words resonated deep within my soul, stirring a longing I hadn't realized was there. Yes, Waterdeep, the city of wonders and dreams, seemed like the perfect place to start our new chapter.

"Yes," I whispered, the word escaping my lips like a fervent prayer. "I'd be honored to marry you, Gale Dekarios."

He took me that same night, slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. As we laid in each other's arms, the the warm body next to mine, our intertwined hands, and synchronized breaths felt like an unbreakable bond, our future stretching out before us like an endless summer day. And through the days following the battle, it did. Helping reconstruct buildings, tending the wounded, and giving food and shelter to those in need; everything was keeping us so busy that I didn't notice the faraway look in his eyes. He still held me close at night, his touch as loving as ever, but something seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind.

One morning, exactly one week after the last battle, when my hand reached out instinctively to the side of the bed where Gale used to lay, I felt coldness that wasn't there before. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, but the silence revealed a very different reality. A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. My eyes scanned our small tent frantically, searching for any sign of him, but all that remained was a single letter addressed to me. Its edges were slightly crumpled, evidence of many folds and unfolding during long nights. With trembling hands, I opened it and read every word carefully, trying to hold onto every piece of him that I could.

To my love

The crown is somewhere in the Chionthar. If I salvage the stones I can reforge it. Only then can I attain the power to protect us from all harm, my love. We could rule together, you as my goddess by my side as I ascend to godhood. I know I pledged to forsake my past for you, but now I must break that vow. The weight of this curse is too heavy for me to bear alone, and I cannot bear the thought of living with it forever. I need to confront her, to stand as her equal this time. I will do everything in my power to surpass her, to make up for all the wrongs she has done, even if it means leaving you behind. But you must understand that if I am successful, I will return to you and make up for all the time we have lost. Please hold onto hope and know that my heart aches with every step I take away from you.

Farewell, my love, until we can be reunited once again.

My tears turned into a relentless stream, blurring the words on Gale's letter as I read it for what felt like the hundredth time. Each phrase cut deeper than the last, carving painful wounds that would never heal. How could he do this to me? Betrayal and rage consumed me as I struggled to understand how the person who had asked me to marry him barely days before could turn their back on it for the sake of power and vengeance.

After that, everything became a blur. I found myself falling into a rhythm of constant busyness. I would wake up at the crack of dawn and immediately begin tackling the tasks that awaited me. And while it brought me some sense of fulfillment to help those in need, it also served as a convenient distraction from Gale's absence and his quest for power. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn't have time to dwell on my shattered relationship with Gale, on the nightmares that plagued my mind with the blood and death I had been through in the last year.

I had become known as the go-to person for any problem, big or small. I made sure to accept every task that came my way, no matter how difficult or time-consuming it may have been. Whether it was helping someone mend their broken roof or comforting a grieving family, I threw myself into each task with determination and purpose. But it wasn't just physical tasks that occupied my time. Many villagers would come to me seeking advice or simply wanting someone to listen to their troubles. And so, in addition to being their physical savior, I became their emotional support as well. For that brief moment when they smiled or thanked me for my help, all the weight on my shoulders lifted and for just a moment, everything felt okay again. Yet, behind my forced smile and empathetic words lay the reality of my shattered existence, haunted each night by the memories of my past as the darkness enveloped me.

Each night, I awoke drenched in sweat, my mind haunted by visions of cruel emperors, slaughtered gnomes, and fallen tieflings. The stench of death clung to me, as if the blood was still fresh on my hands. And the nightmare continued, as I woke up alone in a dirty basement, with no one to turn to. So it became my mission not to sleep; if I was busy and distracted, I didn't have time to think about Gale or death. And if my actions were making other people happy in the process, then everyone won.

However, as the days passed, I could feel myself becoming more and more distant from my friends. With Halsin, Wyll and Karlach gone, Lae'zel busy settling her people in the city, Shadowheart tirelessly rebuilding Selûne's temple, and Astarion retreating into the shadows, I felt completely alone. I found myself longing for their company, for the familiar banter and laughter we used to share. But every time I even attempted to reach out to them, something held me back. Maybe it was fear of being a burden or just not wanting to face my own emotions by confronting theirs. And even on those few occasions I did meet with Lae'zel or Shadowheart, I couldn't bring myself to tell them about Gale's letter or how much it hurt me because I couldn't bear to see their pity or judgment.

"He's just traveling. You know him, always seeking knowledge!" I lied through gritted teeth.

But deep down, I knew that the lie was eating away at my soul. The truth was too painful to voice out loud, even to my closest companions.

So, I buried my agony in feeling helpful, as I always did. I worked tirelessly to provide aid to those who had lost their homes and loved ones. I took on more tasks, stayed up later, and pushed myself beyond my limits. But it seemed like the harder I tried to deny my emotions, the louder they screamed for attention. My exhaustion finally caught up to me, both physically and mentally. One day, as I was helping a family rebuild their home after a devastating fire, I collapsed from exhaustion. The family helped me, of course, but word quickly spread that I had fallen ill. People began to avoid me, their once-welcoming demeanor turning cold and distant. They no longer sought out my help or accepted any aid I offered. This only added to my mounting frustration and despair, until finally, I reached my breaking point.

With nothing but time on my hands, the memories of Gale flooded back with a force that knocked me off balance. All those moments we shared flashed before my eyes in vivid detail – our first meeting on the portal, our adventures in the underdark, where we had first kissed, him asking to marry me... It was like ripping open an old wound that never fully healed. But even worse were the memories of slashing, cutting, severing flesh, of fresh blood and dead bodies. I needed another distraction; and that distraction came in the form of wine and rum. But even as I drowned my sorrows in ale, I knew it was a temporary escape. The sweet burn of alcohol numbed the pain for a little while, but it always came back tenfold once the drinks wore off. Before long, I found myself frequenting taverns more and more often. It was my new coping mechanism, my escape from reality. With each passing day, I could feel myself spiraling deeper into despair and self-pity.

One night, as I stumbled out of yet another tavern, swaying on unsteady legs, the piercing sound of my name being called cut through the fog of alcohol-induced numbness.

"Elara, what-?" The voice was familiar and filled with concern. "Oh gosh... he has left for good, hasn't he?" the tone was gentle but firm.

My dizzy eyes can make up a silver updo and tan skin. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I glance over at Shadowheart. Her usually warm and welcoming expression was replaced by a mix of concern and disappointment.

I let out a bitter laugh before taking another swig of rum. "No shit," my words are slurred and barely coherent. "I can't believe you really bought into that whole traveling bullshit."

Shadowheart's expression shifts from concern to irritation as she leans closer to me. "Don't you dare mock me," she hisses. "You know as well as I do that something is wrong with you."

I smile grimly

"Oh, so now you care?" I say, trying to glare at Shadowheart through bleary eyes. "You have been away for months and it's only now you decide to play the savior card."

Shadowheart's expression darkened at my words, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. But I am too angry, too drunk, to care.

"Well, I'm doing just fine," I continue, taking another long sip of my drink. "So why don't you return to your temple or whatever shithole you came from and leave me alone."

She rolls her eyes.

"Yes. Of course, you're doing fine. You're so fine that I found you lying in a tavern, wallowing in self-pity, drunk off your ass. Clearly the picture of good health and sound mind."

I scoffed, staring at Shadowheart with glazed eyes. "What do you know about me? About what I've been through?" My words slurred together, fueled by the mixture of anger and alcohol coursing through my veins. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and judge me? Well, you can't. You have no idea what it feels like to be abandoned by the person you love."

Shadowheart's brows furrowed, her normally composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I do know" she snapped "In fact, the person I love is all the way down in the freaking avernus!"

The word hung in the air between us, the weight of its significance crashing down on me like a heavy stone. I stare at Shadowheart, the alcohol dulling my senses but unable to numb the pang of guilt in my chest. She's right - I hadn't even considered what she must be going through, separated from Karlach.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, lowering my eyes in shame.

Shadowheart's expression softens slightly.

"It's alright. I know you're hurting." She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. "But drinking yourself to death won't make the pain go away. It will only make things worse."

I struggle to keep my mouth shut, but my stubbornness gets the best of me and I shake my head defiantly. "I don't care," I mutter through clenched teeth, taking another long sip of my drink. But deep down, I know that's a lie. All I want is to forget, but part of me knows that I can't just push these feelings away so easily.

Shadowheart sighs and reaches to grab my hand.

"Listen to me," she says firmly, looking me in the eyes with a determined gaze. "I know how hard this is for you. But you can't give up like this. We need you - your friends need you."

A surge of anger rises within me at her words, and I jerk my hand away from hers.

"Don't talk to me about friends," I snap bitterly. "Where were my friends when I needed them? Everyone left." I choke "Everyone always leaves."

Shadowheart's face creases "We were all dealing with grief in our own ways."

I scoff and take another gulp of my drink.

"Grief? Is that what you call it? How convenient."

Shadowheart's eyes narrow slightly at my accusation, but she keeps her composure. "I never abandoned you," she says firmly."None of us did. We were worried about you."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Sure, you were all so worried."

After a long moment, she lets out an exhausted sigh, seemingly coming to terms with the fact that I will not budge on my decision. "You know what? Fine. Drink yourself into oblivion," she says with a resigned tone. "But just know that when you're ready to face reality, we'll be waiting." Slowly, she turns and leaves the dimly lit street.

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

Several days later, I find myself in a similar situation, but at a different place. I wanted to ensure that none of the others will attempt to track me down. While Shadowheart's words still hangered in my mind, I couldn't help but feel shame at the person I have become. It was hard to admit that I needed their help. Accepting it would mean admitting defeat and acknowledging that I hit rock bottom. But the hardest part was accepting that Gale would never come back to me, enduring the nightmares without any ale to numb them.

I sit alone at a table in the corner, watching the other clients as they laugh and drink with their companions. I envy their untroubled attitude and wish I could join in on their happiness. But deep down, I know that my grief is consuming me.

A group of rowdy half-orcs stumble over to my table, clearly drunk and looking for trouble. I try to ignore them, hoping they will just pass by. But instead, they stop right beside me and leer down at me with malicious grins.

"Looks like we found ourselves a little present," one of them slurs, gesturing towards me with his mug.

Another one takes a step closer and smirks at my face, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Look at her, all alone and pathetic."

My hands grip the edge of the table tightly as I feel a surge of anger rising within me. If I had my magic... But I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice steady as I respond,"There is nothing here for you."

The orcs, however, don't seem to care about my words as they continue to make crude comments about my appearance.

"All those scars, what are you? A mercenary?" one of them snorts, taking another step closer.

I feel a lump form in my throat as I struggle to hold back tears. Normally, I would have stood up for myself or even fought back, but tonight I am too lost in my own misery to even react. Suddenly, one of them reaches out and grabs my arm forcefully, causing me to flinch in fear.

"Come on, babe," he slurs. "I'll make you forget all about your troubles."

I start to panic, my mind racing as I search for a way out of this situation.

But before things can escalate any further, a strong hand grabs one of the men's wrists and forcefully pulls him away from me.

I look up to see a familiar face - For a second, I think it's going to be Shadowheart again, a flash of ivory hair aprearing in the corner of my eye. But then I realize it's someone much, much worse.

"Leave her alone," he growls, his voice full of authority.

It seems like they want to replicate, but once they take a look at his bared fangs, the half-orcs hesitate for a moment before backing off and leaving the tavern with grumbles and curses. When he turns his head back to me, Astarion has his usual smirk plastered over his face.

"Hello, my dear" His sharp features and piercing eyes send a shiver down my spine. "I see you've fallen quite low since our last encounter."

"What do you want, Astarion?" I spit out through gritted teeth, still shaken. Yet another companion to make fun of my state. Great.

Astarion sits down across from me, still wearing his smirk. "Just curious to see how you were coping without your favorite vampire comrade," he taunts, taking a sip of his drink. "Not very well, by the looks of you." he comments, gesturing towards my disheveled appearance. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I try to smooth out my hair and straighten my clothes. This is not how I wanted to be seen by any of my friends, let alone Astarion.

"Whatever" I reply nonchalantly, "Did Shadowheart tell you to come here?"

Astarion smirks, knowing exactly how to push my buttons. "No, no, she didn't. I just happened to be in the area and thought I'd check up on my dear friend." His words drip with sarcasm.

I scoff and take another swig of my drink, trying to ignore him.

"But really," Astarion leans in closer. "What happened? One minute we're all fighting side by side, and the next, you're drowning yourself in ale."

I glared back at him, feeling defensive. "None of your damn business."

He leaned back with a smug grin. "Ah, but I think it is."

I let out an exasperated sigh and take another swig of my drink, hoping he'll get the hint and leave me alone. But as usual, Astarion seems to enjoy getting under my skin. He reaches across the table and grabs my drink before I can protest.

"Hey!" I try to grab it back but he holds it out of reach.

"No more drinking for you," he says with a mock stern expression. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." I say, trying to dismiss the conversation.

Astarion's eyes narrow as he studies me intently. "Fine? You look like you've been through hell." he states bluntly.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair again, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Maybe it's because of everything that has happened in the past few days or maybe it's just the alcohol finally catching up to me.

I glare daggers at him and finally relent with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Gale...he's gone."

"Gone?" Astarion's eyebrows raise in surprise. "As in dead?"

I shake my head sadly. "No...just...gone." My voice cracks on the last word and I have to take a deep breath to compose myself.

A look of understanding crosses Astarion's face and he nods slowly. "Well, it looks like he really went all in on his illusions this time."

I sigh, in no mood for jesting.

Astarion, sensing my lack of humor, leans back in his chair and adopts a more serious expression. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says sincerely, sliding my drink back across the table towards me.

I reluctantly take the drink and give him a nod of acknowledgment, appreciating his rare display of empathy."Thank you," I reply, my voice softening slightly. "I appreciate that."

He nods, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "Although, you know, at the end of the day it's Gale we are talking about, so is it really that big of a loss?"

I roll my eyes at Astarion's insensitive comment. "He was still a good boyfriend, despite his flaws," I reply pointedly.

"Hmm..." Astarion seems to be pondering this before shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, if you say so."

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down before continuing. "Anyway, what do you want from me? You always have an ulterior motive for your visits"

Astarion smirks again, leaning back in his chair. "You know me so well," he drawls sarcastically. "I actually came here with an interesting proposition."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "What kind of proposition?"

He smirks, "You see, even though I excel at pretty much everything, it appears I'm struggling with the... spawn issue, if you know what I mean." He pauses dramatically, waiting for my reaction. "And being the hero that you are," he continues with a hint of condescension, "I was wondering if you could grace me with your whole knight in shining armor wisdom and help me out. Not that I actually need it, mind you. I just think even someone as skilled as myself needs guidance in this kind of situations." He leans back in his chair, with a relaxed smile.

"No"

His face falls dramatically. "What? What do you mean no?"

I roll my eyes.

"I mean exactly what I said," I reply firmly, not breaking eye contact with Astarion. "I have no interest in being your 'knight in shining armor' or helping you with any spawn issues. Find someone else to pester."

Astarion's face falls at my immediate rejection, but he quickly composes himself and leans forward with a suave smile. "Come on, darling," he purrs, reaching out to touch my hand. "Think of the thrill, the excitement of facing such a challenge together."He pauses and adds "just like the old times."

A wave of emotion washes over me at the mere thought. Memories of the past flood my mind, when Gale's presence provided a comforting weight on my side. When our group was at its strongest and most united, standing together against all odds. When everything seemed so easy, so at reach.

I reply with a bitter tone, "Those days are gone for good."

Astarion groans "Gosh, will you stop being so dramatic."

I raise an eyebrow at that. He is one to talk.

Astarion chuckles at my eyebrow raise, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear." he admits. "But I'm serious about this, you know. We make a great team, you and I. And who knows, maybe hunting down vampire spawn will help distract you from your... sorrows."

I sigh, torn between the desire to wallow in my grief and the possibility of finding some kind of purpose again. I will admit, weeping and drinking myself to sleep every night does, while comforting, sounds sad. Plus, Astarion's proposition is tempting. At least that way I will have something other than ale to distract myself with.

"Fine," I finally relent, surprising both him and myself. "But Just because I'm agreeing to this doesn't mean I have forgotten you haven't reached out in months."

Astarion's smirk widens as he raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Oh, I would never dream of such a thing," he says with exaggerated sincerity."But let's just say, I did save your sorry behind from those hideous orcs. So I'd say we're even now."

I roll my eyes at his theatrics but can't help feeling a glimmer of anticipation deep within me. Perhaps there is still some fight left in me after all.

With a clap of his hands, he exclaims triumphantly,"It's decided then, dear Elara. You'll join me at the Crimson Palace tomorrow. I've already arranged for a room for you here," he says smoothly. "And trust me, it's much more luxurious than any tent or tavern room you've ever stayed in."

My brows furrow

"Absolutely not. I refuse to live in that sinister place." I say firmly. "Much less if it's with you"

Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, of course not. Because living alone in a moldy, cramped basement beneath the barracks is much more appealing."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. It almost sounds like he's been planning this for a while now.

"Wait, what? How do you even..." And then, I know. "Shadowheart told you, didn't she? Is there anything she didn't tell you? That damned snitch."

Astarion chuckles at my outburst and shrugs nonchalantly. "She may have mentioned it," he admits with a sly grin."She has always been keen on gossip, after all."

I let out an exasperated sigh and shake my head.

Astarion grins, his red eyes sparkling with amusement "You can't expect me to trust you to do a good job while out of my sight. I mean, from what I see now, you could scape at any moment to get drunk and pass out in the street. And then, what good would that do to our poor spawn?" He says, pretending to be deeply worried.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms defensively. "Fine," I huff. "You win. I'll stay at the Crimson Palace, but only because it's the best option for the spawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, so you do care about the spawn after all? I'm touched," he says sarcastically.

I shoot him a glare, and he relents with a smirk.

"Alright, alright. Enjoy your drinking session then. But don't forget, tomorrow we have important responsibilities."

"Ah yes, the joys of parenthood" I say sarcastically.

And to my surprise, I don't even finish my drink before returning to my basement, finally having something to look forward to.

[kasagia]

My (and your) tears ricochet

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader Summary: You and Klaus have a difficult relationship. For 500 years, you bond, break up, and get back together, being both your worst nightmares and your longed-for dreams. But after Lucien bites you and you die in Klaus' arms, the true feelings of your "lover" come out. And you're as delighted as devastated. Warning(s): angst, de@th, mourn, mentions of depression/mental breakdown, vampire violence, a bit of comfort at the end Word count: 5k+ Inspired by: "My tears ricochet" - Taylor Swift

We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room

I never thought this would be my end. Killed by one of Klaus' many enemies because I rushed to save the love of my life. An Y/N from 200 years ago would have laughed in my face for my own stupidity.

To die for Klaus Mikaelson - the enemy of my family, the bane of my existence, and the only one I ever truly desired.

It would have been as improbable to my past self as the entire Mikaelson family mourning me with my sister Katherine by their side.

Yet I was here. In the spirit world, watching the original vampires and Kath line up in front of my coffin, they silently watched the sunlight illuminate my gray, lifeless face.

Maybe Klaus was supposed to be my undoing after all.

At least Katerina put me in a nice dress.

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me?

Involuntarily, I began to reminisce about the events leading up to my unexpected death, as I was looking at Klaus' stone, emotionless face.

"What? I betrayed you?! I should've seen that coming. After everything I do and sacrifice for you, you still can't trust me, can you? I'll never be your precious Camille."

"Don't bring her to this! I'll ask you just once more and for your own good, love, tell me the truth. Did you tell Aurora about her?!"

"No Klaus. I didn't tell your psychopathic ex that you were fucking your therapist. You have to find someone else to blame for her death."

"I didn't fuck with her."

"And I don't care."

I turned away from him to leave his studio, but the man grabbed my arm in a strong, aching grip, effectively stopping me. I turned to meet his furious gaze again.

"We're not finished."

"YES, WE ARE! I'm so done with being a toy you can throw out and take back whenever you want! I deserve something more than a hybrid who has an existential problem with himself and thousands of enemies on his back. I'm done with you and whatever is between us. You're not worthy of my time, and I'm so dumb to believe that you can feel something more than anger or a desire for power. Mikael was right about you. You're just a scared boy who is pushing everyone away from you because you're too afraid of being betrayed."

I burst out, fed up with his sick attitude. From the moment I arrived at his call, he treated me with fucking hostility and distance. After everything we've been through together, I didn't deserve to be treated like a traitor. 

At least that's what I told myself to keep from falling apart, seeing the complete lack of love for me in his captivating eyes, which I loved as much as the day we first met.

"Calm down. I've killed people for lesser slander. You're lucky you're still breathing, love." he whispered, placing his hand on my neck and squeezing it lightly to remind me that he could end my life at any moment. Good thing I was never afraid of him.

"And you're lucky to still have someone by your side after hurting your whole family again and again. This killing of everyone out of fear that someone would dare lay hand on you is pathetic. And as you can see, it doesn't quite work well." I snarled, yanking my arm out of his grip and walking away from the even angrier man than before.

After all, the one that wins will be the one that hits the hardest. This was always our guiding principle whenever we argued and broke up for a couple of decades.

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day

"Are you leaving so soon, sister? You just came." Katherine asked as I ran down the stairs towards the exit of the mansion.

"Well, apparently my presence is not needed here. In the house of the great Klaus Mikaelson, there is no place for vile traitors and untrustworthy whores."

"You can not fool me! I know what you really think and feel. And I sympathize with you with all my heart. You're making the right choice, little sister. He is not worthy of your love."

"I didn't ask for your opinion." I growled, unable to bear what she was saying and knowing that it was true.

"You still love him... after everything he has done, after he pretended to be with this bartander and broke your heart..."

"Once again. I didn't ask about your opinion, Katerina." I interrupted her to hurry out of the house. If I had known then that this would be one of our last conversations…

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Lucien is running around trying to get to my loved ones at all costs, and you're taking bloody walks around New Orleans?!" Klaus was yelling at me after he pushed me against the wall of one of the alleys.

"You just answered yourself. Lucien is after your loved ones, and I am not one of them."

"Stupid woman, can't you see how much you mean to me?!"

"You've shown me this for the last fucking weeks by flirting with Aurora and playing Camille's damn boyfriend!"

"I did it to protect you!"

"Not telling me anything, keeping me like a prisoner in your house, and treating me worse than an enemy - this is what you call a fucking protection?!"

"How else was I supposed to keep you from participating in a war that wasn't yours and keep you safe at the same time?!"

"It would be too easy to let me know your plans, wouldn't it?"

"Can't you understand that I can't let anything happen to you?! That losing you too will be the final nail in my coffin!"

Suddenly, a strange, disturbing feeling came over me.

"Klaus."

"No. Let me finally end this and tell what's should be told 500 houndreds bloody years ago." Completely unable to focus on Klaus' words, I glanced over to see what was going on behind him. Lucien pointed the pistol at him with a smirk. Whatever was loaded into the gun, it couldn't end well. "Y/N, I love…"

The shot drowned out what he wanted to say. In an instant, I switched places with him, taking a shot at myself. I gasped as I felt my cool blood begin to ooze from the newly formed wound. My gaze, however, stayed hard on Klaus' terrified eyes.

Lucien's venom.

"Y/N!" his scream managed to cut through my dazed body before I collapsed limply on top of him, sinking into the enticing, blissful darkness.

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

"I don't see a bit of sense in what we're doing." Klaus whined as we walked along the lakeshore. Every now and then I would stop to pick up a nicer pebble and put it in one of our pouches.

"Don't be grumpy, old man. Had you never done this when you were a child?"

"We had other activities. Hunting, learning to fight, mother being one of the more ambitious decided to teach us to read and write - looking at Elijah, one of her worst ideas. We had all kinds of holidays, but we never did something as stupid as collecting useless stones."

"My God, you're worse than Katerina. Shouldn't you, as an artist, see beauty even in something as simple as stone? Besides, what if we happen to come across a diamond thrown away by some rich aristocrat's angry mistress? I'm about to waste my chance at finding a ridiculously expensive gem just because you're particularly cranky today." I asked indignantly, pulling him closer to me and smirking as I waited for his response.

"Your overactive imagination worries me sometimes. Also, I'm capable of giving you your own diamond if you want." he replied, unconvinced, staring at me with feigned concern. Sparks of amusement shone in his mesmerizingly beautiful eyes.

"As far as I remember, my imagination didn't bother you last night. You actually complimented it a lot."

"I won't answer that, just because, apparently, I'm the only one in our humble company who cares about a little tact."

"Well… you weren't last night." I kissed him briefly and run away from him laughing.

"Come here, you little tempting, irritating thing!" he shouted, chasing after me with his own smirk.

He grabbed me, pulling my back to his chest. I started laughing even more as he started placing small kisses down my neck.

"I can give you every little diamond ring you want. Just say a word." he whispered in my ear, nuzzling my jaw with his nose.

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene

Consciousness slowly began to return to my body. I felt like I was in a sea of ​​verbena. Every little muscle burned with hellish pain.

I must have been in hell.

"Not yet, love. I won't let you get away from me that easily. You must fight." his voice instantly brought me back.

I struggled to open my eyes, hissing at the blinding sunlight. The man sitting by my bed rushed to the windows, covering them, before immediately returning to sit by my side. I felt a sudden pressure on my skull. I angrily pushed his hand away, severing the connection between us.

"Get out of my mind." I wheezed, wincing as I heard my hoarse voice. The hybrid, undaunted by my condition, moved closer to me and handed me a glass of blood from the bedside table.

"Make me, love. I dare you." he whispered as he watched me greedily drink the red liquid.

He helped me hold the glass in my hand, embracing it and stroking it tenderly with his thumb. Had it not been for the knowledge that I would die in a few hours, I might have found the whole scene romantic.

"You know that even if you throw me a thousand challenges, you won't keep me for long. I'm gonna die, Klaus. Like Finn and Cami."

"NO. I will not let you. I'll go to Lucien and snatch this damned cure from his throat."

"Klaus, I'm already dead. There is no need…" he cut me off, tangling his hand in my hair to pull me into a desperate, demanding, needy kiss.

I let the warmth of his lips touch me one last time, letting a soft moan escape my throat as the emotions I felt became too much for me to hide any longer. He grabbed my waist, pulling me to him so that I was sitting on his lap. We broke apart. I leaned my head against his forehead, staring into his tear-filled eyes.

"You can't leave me. Not like that."

"I guess I don't have much choice." I whispered in a trembling voice, stroking his cheek tenderly, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Klaus? Earlier in this alley, before all this happened, You said you love me. I…" he didn't let me finish by pressing his lips against mine again.

"You can say you love me tomorrow. You won't die today, love." he kissed my forehead and left in such a hurry that I couldn't even try to talk him out of the stupid idea of chasing Lucien.

I could only hope he wouldn't do something stupid and share my fate.

You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

The funeral was not extraordinary or grand. By Mikaelson's standards, it was quite modest and therefore more personal. It was good to know they'd miss my presence, but I couldn't focus on anyone but Klaus.

He was strangely calm. Emotionless, expressionless. Like a dead sculpture. My concern for the vampire only increased when I saw the necklace (which I gave him for his 1,000th birthday) with the pendant of a wolf howling at the moon hanging proudly from his neck, gleaming in the sunlight. His blue eyes stared blankly at my coffin, which they were hiding in the crypt.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear Katerina and Rebekah crying.

However, the one person I cared about and worried about ever since I left the world of the living spent the entire funeral in astonishing silence.

It was at that moment that I knew he wouldn't accept my departure so easily.

I smiled as I saw Elijah come over to comfort him afterward. My smile faded as the hybrid growled aggressively at him, shoved his brother away, and ran to a place only known to him.

It must have been harder for him than he dared show anyone.

"Please, let one of his siblings be able to get to him. Despite his best efforts to keep them at a distance."

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

If I thought the funeral was hard for Klaus, then the wake must be his true hell.

Most of the originals have recovered by now, sitting in their living room sipping drinks, recalling all the funny, sad, and crazy things that had to do with me.

I thought it would somehow ease his pain.

Katerina seemed a little cheerier as she talked about all the compromising situations that WERE SUPPOSED to go with me to the grave. But I couldn't really blame her. I would probably do the same in the reverse situation.

It was Kol who unwittingly unleashed the storm.

"Remember when Nik tried to propose to her in the 19th century, here in New Orleans?" my heart and the whole world around me stopped for a moment. Propose?

"What?! How?" my sister's surprised exclamation perfectly reflected my current state. I had no idea that idea could ever enter his head.

"He has had hundreds of attempts over the centuries, but at this time most of us thought he'd finally made it." a single tear escaped my eye as I lamented the future that would never happen. "I even spent all of my money from the safe in Chicago because Nik had planned to…"

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, silencing the original. Everyone's attention shifted to Klaus, who had shards of glass stuck in his hands. A trickle of blood began to form from his hand, staining the chair and the carpet beneath it.

"I have enough of this pathetic show." he snarled, brushing off the shards of glass as he walked away to his art studio. Rebekah and Elijah didn't give up so easily, catching up with him on the stairs.

"Is that how your life will look now? You'll growl at us every time we mention Y/…" 

"DON'T EVEN DARE SAY HER NAME!" he burst out, running to his studio. Elijah gave his sister a knowing look and returned to the living room, letting her do her thing.

Rebekah and I followed the hybrid, finding him in the middle of the ruined room, weeping over one of my portraits that had miraculously survived the crash. The blonde kneeled, hugging her brother and combing his hair comfortingly.

"Oh, Nik. That pain will never go away if you don't accept…"

"I WILL NEVER ACCEPT THIS!" he wrenched himself free from her grip, wary of the painting. "And this damn witch knew it! She enchanted me the first time I saw her. She put a dark spell on me, so I never found any other woman even a little bit as attractive as her. She is my heart, my half soul, my happiness, my sadness, and my madness, and now… now she is gone. And will be my curse for the rest of my life, Rebekah. Nothing can change that, especially not passing time, because every second, every minute, every hour, and every day without her by my side is meaningless."

"But you two were apart before, and you never acted like that, Nik."

"It was easier to let her go knowing she was happy and safe rather than cold and dead in some bloody tomb."

"And what about Hope? Your daughter, remember? You must be strong for her."

"Maybe it would have been better if she had never known the wasted shell I became after SHE left."

The blast of air (and all that mess) was all he left behind. Rebekah hesitantly reached for my portrait, staring at it with tears in her eyes.

However, it may not be so easy to let me go for all of them.

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home

"You just beat yourself up more. By the way, he himself too." Cami's voice came from behind me. I turned to face her, leaving the hybrid alone with my crypt for a moment.

"I thought it was healthy to grieve a little over someone's death."

"Yes, but what you two are doing is obsessive and bordering on pre-depressive. You must let him go. And he you. Holding on to him will get you nowhere. If you don't want peace yet, you might as well travel to other places. You can go anywhere you want."

"Anywhere I want, just not home." I muttered bitterly, looking at the hybrid sitting across from my grave and sipping a bottle of bourbon.

"I don't think I can do anything here. Just remember you have a choice, okay?"

"You're going to find peace?"

"Yes, and don't make me wait there alone for long. Watching them won't help you. I'm so sorry, Y/N." she gave me one last comforting, sad smile and turned to leave.

"Good luck, Camille!" I called after her and turned on my way, approaching Klaus again.

"For you too. I hope you'll find your peace." I heard before the blonde was gone for good.

"I already did." I murmured, grabbing Klaus' hand, enjoying the slim chance of being close to him. At the very least, I could fool myself into thinking I was still with him. 

Because the truth was that I would never find my peace without him.

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones

Klaus had slept for a week and stayed only in my bedroom, occasionally popping up to visit my grave. With a heavy heart, I laid down next to him on my bed, watching him sleep peacefully, hugging my pillow, and inhaling my scent left on it.

Involuntarily, I remembered my last hours in this bed.

"I will kill anyone you thought was your friend. I will tear out their throats and hearts one by one and torture them until they feel half as much pain as I will feel. I'll make this whole bloody world go up in flames, and it'll never rise from its fall, and neither will I if you leave me."

"Were you always so dramatic, or did it just happen in your old age?" I taunted, taking a sip of water to cover up my earlier sudden coughing fit from him. But I doubt I'll be able to explain the blood on the mirror if he looks in the bathroom when he returns.

"I'm not joking, love. If you die before I find a cure, I'll follow you straight to hell and drag you back with me. No one and nothing can take you from me."

"I'd find it romantic if you didn't presume that I'm the spawn of the devil. What if I'm an angel in disguise?"

"Then they did a fantastic job of camouflaging you. I have to go now, love. You have one task: Don't die. Can you do it?"

"I'll try. Nik, I lo..." he hung up before I could finish. "I love you, Nik." I whispered to myself, trying my hardest to control the sudden dizziness.

Klaus, whatever you're doing, please do it faster.

And I still talk to you (When I'm screaming at the sky) And when you can't sleep at night (You hear my stolen lullabies)

"I think you should go in the red one. This color has always suited you." I mumbled as I stood next to my sister and watched her look at herself in the mirror.

At one point, she sighed resignedly, falling onto the bed where Rebekah was sitting. The blonde pulled away from the phone, glancing at the doppelgänger.

"What's wrong with you this time? We went through all our wardrobes, and you didn't pick anything? You always look stunning, just go for something."

"Usually, it was Y/N who helped me choose a dress for a date."

The deafening silence that filled the room probably hurt me more than it hurt them. How I would love to be there with them.

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"You don't have to. How could you know? I just… really miss her."

"Yeah. Me too. All of us do."

"I'd probably borrow something from her if she was still here and if Klaus wasn't guarding her room like a vault."

"Speaking of him, I should probably check on him. If you can hear me in any way, take the little red one. Elijah will be delighted." I said getting out of bed and heading to my bedroom. I've probably spent more time in it as a ghost than a vampire.

I entered the room, neatly dodging the piles of books and clothes that Klaus had scattered around, looking for things that still smelled of me. I dreaded thinking what he would do when they were gone. Maybe he'll be in the mood to use my perfume instead and go outside? It was the best scenario.

I sighed, recognizing his curled form on the bed. He was wearing my favorite sweatpants and a (too big for me) sweatshirt. I was a little scared that he could easily fit into my clothes. Several bottles of alcohol and bags of blood were placed next to him. At least he was feeding. I sat next to him, running my hand through his hair (pretending to do so).

"I know it's hard for you and that you can't move on; come to terms with what happened. I'd probably be in much worse shape if I couldn't hear you, see your ridiculously handsome face. But you are stronger than me. Much stronger. You have to get out of this. For yourself, for your siblings, for Hope… for me." I began to cry, trying to somehow hug the also weeping hybrid. "I'm so sorry, Nik."

Suddenly, a very angry Hayley burst into the room with a nervous Elijah behind her.

"KLAUS! That's enough! You have to get yourself in order and get out of this hole. It will be best if you go for a walk with YOUR DAUGHTER. Do you still remember her? Hope misses you and has been restless for several weeks. I can't calm her down, so do your fatherly duty and move your ass, or I'll do it for you."

"Go away." he mumbled, not even looking up since they came in.

The brunette snorted, trying to take my blanket from him, which covered him. As soon as her hands were on the material, the hybrid growled, snatching it from her hands and pinning the woman by the neck to the wall.

"Touch her stuff again, and I'll make it the last thing you do in your miserable, meaningless life."

"Niklaus! Let her go!" I screamed along with Elijah. Klaus ignored his brother, only tightening his grip on the barely alive woman.

"Do you think Y/N would want you to kill your baby's mother?"

Luckily, this convinced the hybrid. He released Hayley from his grip and shoved them both out of the room, locking the door behind them. He threw himself heavily on the bed, inhaling my scent to calm himself down. After a while, tears started flowing from his eyes.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

The worst thing about this illness wasn't the debilitating pain. Loneliness was the worst.

Each of the Mikaelsons and Katerina were involved in obtaining the cure. They still had hope. But I resigned myself to my fate the moment Lucien's venom pierced my body with a wooden ball.

That didn't mean I wanted to die alone.

As if on cue, Katerina burst into my room and sat on the bed next to me. I could see her lips move, but I couldn't hear a sound in the world. It wasn't until she poured a glass of cold water over me that my complete consciousness returned to me.

"Are you crazy?!" I shouted. "If you want to get me to my grave faster, there are other ideas." Katerina stopped laughing and suddenly tensed up, glaring reproachfully at me.

"Don't even dare say that. You're not going to die, do you understand? Klaus is getting a cure right now. You will recover. I promise." she said, grabbing my hand and planting a kiss on my forehead, brushing sweaty, wet strands of hair out of my eyes.

"You may be the best liar that ever walked on this earth, but I always knew when you were lying."

"I'm glad I'm not doing it this time. You'll see, you'll be cruising around again in a few hours, avoiding Klaus' argument about obeying his orders."

"At least when I go to hell, I'll meet our father and kick his ass for separating you from Nadia. Maybe Mikael and Dahlia will be on my hit list too." I mumbled, giving in after several hours to the urge to close my eyes. Then I felt that I had been shivering with fever all this time.

"Y/N, open your eyes. You've got to open your eyes for me, just for a little while longer. Please, Y/N."

"We should saddle our horses today and take a ride to the lake. We haven't done that for a long time."

"We'll go to Bulgaria I promise, just open your eyes for me. Molya te, sestrichke otvori ochi."

"Obicham te Katerina." I whispered, feeling the last bloody tears fall from my eyes.

"Y/N! Wake up! Freya!" Katherine screamed in panic, trying to wake me up by shaking my shoulders.

The next few minutes were weightless as I waited to pass into the ghost world. With the remnants of my ebbing life, I felt the commotion around my bed. The bitter liquid was forced down my throat, and someone clenched my jaw to make sure I didn't spit out the horrible liquid. In the background, I could still hear Freya and Davina mumbling, Katerina and Rebekah crying, and Klaus screaming in rage before I was swallowed up in pain-relieving darkness for good.

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed You turned into your worst fears And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain Crossing out the good years And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

It's been a month and a half since my death, and Klaus has made one small, significant progress. He didn't throw his fangs at anyone who so much as uttered my name. After the attack on Hayley, he had controlled his aggression and was not a relative danger to society. Well… at least not more than usual.

I, on the other hand, felt much better than a months ago. My vampire speed somehow reactivated, saving me from chasing the rushing original for half a day. Also, watching my loved ones brought me some relief. Only Klaus was still stuck in place, unable to let me go.

Hayley and Freya joined forces to talk some sense into him and set him on the right path. But even their best efforts could not change the stubborn hybrid's mind.

That's how I got here. At my grave, watching Klaus clean it and add new flowers, throwing out the ones that had faded since his visit yesterday. I got more flowers from him after I died than I've had in 500 goddamn years.

He usually worked in silence, occasionally humming some old song I made him sing ages ago when I was upset. He has always had a wonderful voice.

But today, after a particularly bad fight with Hayley, Elijah, and Freya, he sat on the bench in front of my tombs and did something he hadn't done before. He was talking to me (or rather, to a stone slab with my name on it, but still).

"I know you wouldn't approve of my behavior. I know you would yell at me and get angry. My gods, I never imagined that I would miss it so much. I really wish I could be there for Hope, but I can't. I can't let her see me like this. Even if she's so little now. I know she needs me, but... everyone I love is dying. And I can't let anyone else die again because of me. Especially not my daughter. I want her to live. I want her to grow up. I want her to love, even if it brings you pain and sadness. Be a strong and beautiful woman, as you and her mother. I don't know what to do, Y/N. And I really wish that you were here to tell me, my little vampire."

A fountain of tears spilled from both his and my eyes. For the first time today, I reached for him, pulling him to me in a poor imitation of a hug.

The hybrid jumped up from the bench in fear, staring shocked and suspiciously at the place he had recently occupied. My heart beat faster. Did he? No. It is impossible. Klaus has the same incredulous look as mine. But what if…

"Y/N?" for the first time in these long, cold months, I shed a wave of relief tears. I sat there in shock, staring at the uncertain hybrid with unimaginable happiness. He could feel me. Like I him. "Please, show me it's you, and I'm not delusional."

I rushed over to him, hugging him with all my might. The hybrid almost knocked us to the ground. He probably didn't hear my loud laugh because he would have looked a little more offended than full of disbelief and happiness.

"I'll recognize that smell anywhere. Cruel woman, if you really are just a figment of my imagination and I make a fool of myself by running to my siblings with this, then know that I will meet you soon in hell and will not let your soul depart from me again." I slapped his shoulder for saying such nonsense, and he just laughed, gropingly trying to pull me closer to his chest.

I allowed myself, for the first time in months, to sink into the blissful feel of his warm skin. We needed a moment to ourselves before he shared this discovery with Freya, and their next fight to retrieve me from death's clutches began. For now, I enjoyed Klaus' clinginess.

"Don't even think that I'll deprive you of your touch for a moment. I'm going to hold you until the end of the bloody world." he whispered, moving around me from memory to put his chin on top of my head after he kissed me there softly.

It sounded good. But I knew it wouldn't be enough for us for long.