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sansaorgana · 12 days ago

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— DAUGHTER OF THE MOON (II)

PART ONE || PART THREE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader (Celebrimbor's Daughter)

SUMMARY — Annatar manages to seduce Lord Celebrimbor's daughter but her visions might interfere with his plans. Unless he can make her believe that the evil her mother was warning her about is nobody else but Lord Celebrimbor himself.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Reader's appearance is not described and her mother comes from a group of Elves that I came up with myself for the sake of this fic and its plot – the Moon Elves. I made Mirdania a bit of a mean girl here and idk I kinda feel bad about it but I also kinda don't lmao 🤣

WARNINGS — Reader's mother is dead ("madness" + suicide), manipulation, gaslighting, Reader has a vision / "is going mad" (she's basically Mirdania in this scene)

WORD COUNT — 5,190

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DAUGHTER OF THE MOON (II)

Lady (Y/N) interpreted his forehead kiss as both, so it seemed – both the blessing and the sign of his personal adoration. Whenever Annatar looked at her now, she was looking down, shyly. He could hear her heartbeat quicken its pace and he had to fight very hard not to smirk.

In fact, he was seeing her more often now. She was finding excuses to visit her father in the forge nearly every day and Celebrimbor was too busy to notice that his daughter was acting unusual and strange.

One time, Annatar overheard two women gossiping about his new friend’s daughter.

“Lady (Y/N) seems to be quite fascinated with Lord Annatar,” one of them chuckled quietly, not knowing that he was standing nearby. “Did you see her yesterday? Bumping into him as if it was an accident… She is not an actress good enough to pull that off.”

“Oh, I did see. I do wonder what her excuse will be today,” the other one giggled and covered her mouth. “He is so kind and patient for not rejecting her already because she is starting to get annoying.”

“Well, she is Lord Celebrimbor’s daughter. I suppose he cannot just–”

“Please,” her friend interrupted her. “He is the emissary of the Valars. He is above Lord Celebrimbor,” she insisted and Annatar could hear jealousy in her voice. He knew her because he worked with her in the forge. Her name was Mirdania and she had a crush on him – as silly as it sounded but it was true.

He was trying to charm everyone but it was not his intention to bring the romantic feelings out of his every victim. However, sometimes, not everything was going perfectly well and according to the plan.

“I cannot blame her,” Mirdania’s friend added, sadly. “Lady (Y/N) has been in so much pain after her mother’s passing and her father has always been the most overprotective but also neglecting her because of his work. Lord Annatar is the very first man her father trusts around his daughter and who pays her so much attention.”

“It is not very kind to gossip about your Lord’s daughter like that,” Annatar decided to step in with his hands clasped behind his back. His smile was gentle but his eyes showed a bit of harshness as both of the women looked at him in terror.

“L-lord Annatar…” Mirdania bowed down. “Forgive me, my Lord, I… We…”

“We have so much to do and I am certain that gossipping is not something we should bother ourselves with whenever we get a free moment for ourselves,” he insisted, calmly.

They both walked away as fast as possible, ashamed and with their heads kept low.

Jealousy was an ugly thing, Annatar thought. Lady (Y/N) was the most special woman inside this city – half Moon Elf after her mother, with powerful blood inside her veins and her hands blessed with so many talents. She was also a daughter of the Lord of this city and she had the biggest amount of power out of all women there. Of course they were jealous of her but they did not fear her, therefore instead of admiring her, they were whispering such nasty things.

Annatar felt bad for (Y/N) in a way. She deserved so much better and he would give it to her. He was sure that she would never deny such a gift.

“Lord Annatar!” Her voice made him turn around with a wide and kind smile. Here she was, walking towards him with her skirts gathered in her hands and yet another excuse to spend time with him on that day just like the gossipping women had suspected.

“My Lady,” he nodded at her. “What has caused you to come here and bless me once more with the sight of you?”

Oh, how she loved those compliments and sweet assurances. She froze for a moment and looked away, flustered. Her breath was becoming faster and her hands started to tremble a little.

“I was on my way to see my father,” she lied, “but seeing you on my way is a blessing as well, my Lord,” she gave him a shy smile and walked past him, very slowly.

Annatar closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling her scent. Then, he grabbed her wrist and made her stop as he opened his eyes once again and met her confused gaze.

“Please, my sweet (Y/N), you do not have to address me so formally,” he insisted. “I am Annatar to you. No Lord.”

She gasped a little and then she nodded her head as her lips curled up into a wide grin.

“Annatar,” she repeated his name. Devotion and sweetness were so audible in it that he wondered how could she not be ashamed of them but perhaps she was not even realising it.

Perhaps she needed one more push.

He visited her once again in her chambers in the evening. Actually, he had been doing that very often these days as they talked and she kept revealing to him nearly every moment of her life. So innocently handing herself out to him on a silver plate.

She opened the doors without a word and nothing but a smile. She was no longer surprised by his visits and she had been awaiting him, it was obvious. Her workshop was no longer messy and the gowns she was wearing in the evenings were the most exquisite. Even the jewellery she was wearing – her own creations – were breathtaking whenever it was time for his nightly visit.

Their shared moments were of a nocturnal nature and they both preferred it this way although the reasons differed for them both. She was simply a half Moon Elf and he was the Dark Lord. Nevertheless, under the moonlight they both thrived and so did their bond.

(Y/N) stood on the balcony as Annatar followed her there, watching the moonlight dancing in the light that reflected upon her hair.

“You are breathtaking,” he gasped and perhaps his reactions were exaggerated but he truly meant his words.

Of course, Celebrimbor’s daughter was a prize. And a woman of such power and such potential was an ally he wanted by his side no matter what. But still, with time, he grew quite affectionate towards her in the most genuine manner. Her innocence seemed to draw him in.

“Annatar, please,” she shook her head and looked away with a nervous smile. “Do not…”

“Why not?” He stood even closer as he put his hand on her arm. She flinched slightly, trying to get away from him but he stood behind her and even though he was gentle, now his body was completely over hers and keeping her still, making it unable for her to walk away without his permission.

“When you finish your work with my father… You will leave us, right?” She asked and swallowed thickly, fighting the tears in her eyes. “And what will be left of me then? I cannot handle another loss,” she confessed.

Annatar stood there still as a short silence occurred. He let her sob in his arms as he caressed her shoulders before leaning in to whisper into her ear.

“I would not be the first emissary of the Valars who chose to stay in Middle-earth because of a woman,” he confessed.

“Because of a woman?” She asked as she looked up to meet his gaze. She stopped sobbing but her forehead was furrowed and he realised that the word he had used was not the most proper.

“Because of love,” he fixed himself and raised his hand to wipe her cheek. Her tears felt like little stars upon his fingers in the moonlight.

“Oh, Annatar, I–” she gasped but he did not let her finish as he leaned in to join their lips together.

She turned around in his arms as he loosened the grip for her to be able to do so. Her own arms wrapped around him nearly desperately as her kiss grew more and more hungry. She would give herself to him right there, right now, on the balcony under the moonlight. And he would not mind that at all but he had to play the role of a pure and noble creature, therefore he took a step back, breaking the kiss.

“My Lady, we shall not,” he breathed out.

“Forgive me, I do not know what has possessed me,” Lady (Y/N) shook her head, embarrassed of herself. Still ashamed, she walked past him and went back inside.

He observed her. She felt so stupid for her behaviour that she nervously grabbed the small chisel on her desk and went back to some of the work she had abandoned throughout the day, trying to grind the piece of diamond laying on the table nearby.

Annatar leaned in on the wall as he watched her with a gentle smile. Her nervousness was making her look even more adorable but to witness her creation was as fascinating as watching her father.

As her skillful hands worked quickly, she suddenly hissed out of pain and dropped the chisel. Annatar furrowed his brows out of worry and found himself by her side in an instant.

“(Y/N), my darling,” he put his arm around her and raised her hurt hand up as he glanced upon the precious blood leaking out of the fresh wound. “You ought to be more careful, my sweet,” he swallowed thickly and even though he wanted to look into her eyes while saying those words, he couldn’t stop staring at the red liquid staining more and more of her hand.

“I just… I do not know what to think of all of this. Who am I for you to forsake the Valars for me?” Her eyes filled with tears and this finally made him look up to meet her gaze.

“Who are you?” Annatar asked gently and cupped her face. “The grandest of the Elven maidens, Lady (Y/N) of Eregion, creator of the most beautiful artistry that is admired in all the realms. Daughter of Lord Celebrimbor and Lady Dúlinnel, granddaughter of Lord Commander Nillendur. The very last Moon Elf of Middle-earth,” he spoke these things with all confidence and devotion as she kept blinking her tears away and staring at him.

“And what is all of this to a man like you?” She asked, still unsure.

“You are everything to me,” he whispered, joining their lips together once more.

Celebrimbor was in his study. It was late at night as he liked to work in silence and solitude. He was looking through the pages full of drawings and projects when he heard the doors creaking and then the footsteps.

“Who is it?” He asked as he stood up to approach the railing of the stairs leading up to his study from the forge.

“It is only I,” Lady (Y/N) smiled at him as she walked inside but then another person walked right after.

“And I,” Lord Annatar announced his arrival.

“Oh, I see,” Celebrimbor did not mind their presence out of all people. In fact, they were the closest to him. Therefore, he went back to his desk and his papers.

But when Annatar and (Y/N) stood above him, arm to arm, he raised an eyebrow at them, curiously.

“What is it again?” He sighed a little, expecting them both to try to talk him into doing something or to stop him from doing something. These past few weeks, they had become quite close and (Y/N) often accompanied Annatar when he was trying to convince her father to his ideas.

“My dear friend, we have come here with nothing but our love for you in our hearts… And a hope that you would choose to bless us,” Annatar spoke softly as (Y/N) only stood there. It was her idea that he should be the one to speak because his words were like honey.

“Bless you in what?” Celebrimbor asked, confused.

“I wish to make your sweet and precious daughter my wife,” Annatar announced softly as his lips curled up into a smile. (Y/N) held her breath, watching her father’s reaction closely.

And there was a lot to watch – Celebrimbor’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked around only to lay their eyes upon them once more. His face went a shade paler and he was visibly shocked.

“But… That would mean that…” He could not find the right words.

“That would mean that I would choose to stay in this form and live the rest of my days in Middle-earth alongside your daughter, yes,” Annatar nodded and (Y/N) looked up at him lovingly. “I am aware of the consequences of my choice, however the Valars would never go against love so pure and they have already blessed us themselves,” he lied so beautifully and (Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears at those words.

“Well, if the Gods themselves have blessed you, I cannot say no,” the Lord of Eregion chuckled nervously as he laid his eyes upon his daughter. “My darling, are you sure?” He asked, a little nervously.

“What do you mean, father?” She gasped, wrapping her hands around Annatar’s arm.

“I mean… It is rather quick…” He tried to make a reasonable excuse for his slight suspicions.

“You fell in love with my mother the moment you saw her, did you not?” (Y/N) reminded him in a gentle voice and Celebrimbor smiled at that sadly as he looked away.

He remembered the very first time he had seen his future wife – bathing in the moonlight on her balcony. She had not seen him but he spotted her, on the highest tower of one of the most beautiful mountain cities of her kin.

“Yes, I did,” he nodded and looked up at Annatar and (Y/N) again. “I bless you. It is an honour to give my daughter to a man like you, Lord of Gifts,” he smiled at his new friend and Annatar smiled back. “I shall throw you a feast to announce the betrothal,” he announced happily and his daughter’s eyes sparkled a little, too.

“My friend, please, do not,” Annatar winced as both Celebrimbor and (Y/N) froze slightly. “This is not a proper time to throw feasts for it is a privilege to be able to celebrate anything when so many people suffer now in Mordor,” Annatar reminded them. “I am of a humble nature, too, I do not require such festivities. Your daughter’s love is all I need and I am aware she prefers peace and solitude as well,” he looked down at (Y/N) and she cracked an affectionate smile at him.

“I understand,” Celebrimbor nodded. “And when do you wish to be wed? In a year as the custom says?”

“Perhaps sooner. When the Rings are forged and we can all truly celebrate,” Annatar proposed.

Surprisingly, despite his friend’s surprised expression, there was no audible protest.

“Dwarves and Elves working together. It was said to be impossible, but our cooperation has achieved this wonder,” Celebrimbor spoke from the top of the stairs to the gathered Dwarves on his left and the Elves on his right. And in front of him, with their own goblets of wine, stood Lord Annatar and Lady (Y/N), wearing each other’s silver rings now. “And today, we embark upon a new dream, to enshrine our friendship in stone,” he glanced upon his friend and daughter.

Lady (Y/N) reached out to squeeze Annatar’s forearm and he looked down at her with an affectionate smile.

“Narvi?” Celebrimbor addressed one of the Dwarves and walked down to join the rest.

“Behold!” Narvi announced as he stepped out and grabbed the rope on the ground to pull it and reveal Celebrmibor’s new work of art. “The Doors of Durin!” The Dwarf introduced the beautifully carved doors made of stone. “The new West-gate of our mountain. Unbreachable. Visible only by moonlight and guarded by a password known only to friends.”

“It is a craft my father has learnt from my mother’s kin,” Lady (Y/N) whispered to Annatar and he smiled softly at her. Her eyes sparkled as she mentioned that, remembering the love her parents had shared.

Truly believing that her own would be the same.

But as her father chatted and kept making lighthearted jokes, Annatar pretended to be not impressed as he moved away. (Y/N) tried to stop him but he shook her hand off.

“I need some air,” he told her and when she furrowed her brows and wanted to follow him, he turned around to stop her. “Please, I want to be alone. I shall come to you later,” he told her.

He knew that the conversation he would have with Celebrimbor now would not be of the nicest kind, therefore he did not want her to witness it.

“If that is your wish,” (Y/N) looked down and he could sense that she felt rejected, so he grabbed her wrist to hold it lovingly.

“I am not angry with you, my love. It is the burdens of far greater matters than the two of us that I have to carry,” he explained.

“I am aware,” she nodded, relaxing her muscles. She nodded at him with a shy smile. “I shall retire to my chambers and wait for your visit.”

And so she did but when he came back to her, his mood was somehow even worse and she only watched with terror as he kept talking to her about her father’s stubbornness when it came to the Rings for men.

“Was he not lying to the High King himself about the Rings for the Dwarves, defending them?” (Y/N) was as outraged as her betrothed. “And now he is showing such hypocrisy by denying you… The emissary of the Valars… Oh, Annatar, I am so ashamed of him!” She exclaimed. “It is as if he denied the Gods themselves!”

“Do not worry, my darling,” Annatar approached her to caress her arms soothingly. “I told him already I shall be the one to create those rings then and as I said, I shall do.”

“But… But can you?” She asked, shyly, as she looked up. “I mean, if you could do it yourself, you would have done that already without his help.”

“I do not know… But I have to try for all the people suffering now after Mordor’s rise,” he explained.

“If I can be of any help… Talk to my father to try to reason with him or perhaps there is something else I could do…” (Y/N) started as Annatar smirked a tiny bit, knowing very well she was too affected now to even notice.

It was too early to ask her for such a sacrifice, though. She would get suspicious because she was sensitive about the matter. She knew the dark history of the Moon Elves and she was afraid of becoming the darkness that so many of them had been naturally inclined to.

No, he had to wait some more time.

“Do not worry about it, please,” Annatar shook his head and kissed her forehead. “Have your faith in me and I shall be alright.”

Celebrimbor was sitting upstairs and staring at his papers but the only thing he could focus on were the sounds coming from the forge as his smiths were trying to create the Rings with Lord Annatar’s help. He could hear that they were not doing well and his new friend was growing frustrated but he also did not want to give up and help them.

After hearing Annatar scolding Mirdania gently, Celebrimbor stood up with a sigh and approached the railing as he leaned on it to watch more intensely. Annatar looked up at him as his eyes intensified but then they both looked away, avoiding each other’s uncomfortable gaze.

The usual noises of the forge were suddenly interrupted by a loud scream of terror coming from the outside. Everyone froze, staring at each other’s faces. Lord Celebrimbor’s heart skipped a beat as he recognised the scream immediately. He rushed down the stairs and spotted nothing but fear and worry on Annatar’s face as the scream was familiar to him as well.

“Lady (Y/N)...” Annatar whispered, dropping down his hammer and hurrying to the doors, giving a perfect show of nothing but pure concern.

Truth to be told, he was a little worried. He had no idea what could have caused her scream of terror but he knew one thing – that was not a part of his plan.

He was running towards the tower where she resided, with her father hurrying right after him. The people of Eregion were staring up and whispering between each other, curiously and worryingly.

Annatar and Celebrimbor opened the doors leading to (Y/N)’s workshop and they saw her standing in the middle of it as shattered gemstones laid upon her feet all around the floor. She was squeezing a small hammer in her trembling hands as if she was trying to protect herself with it from something and her hair was ruffled while her cheeks were wet from tears. She was gasping for air and took a step back at their rapid arrival to her chambers.The way she presented herself at that moment was the most pitiful.

“My darling… Breathe…” Celebrimbor took a step further and tried to approach his daughter calmly with his hand extended, wanting her to give him back the hammer. (Y/N) was looking around, lost and stressed, squeezing the hammer even tighter. “My sweet child, please, I do not want you to hurt yourself,” Celebrimbor’s voice filled with pain.

After a while of hesitation, as the feeling of confusion was slowly disappearing and her breath was calming down, (Y/N) handed the hammer back to her father.

“What happened?” He asked, taking it away from her immediately.

“I was in a place like this, but shrouded in mist and darkness, and…” (Y/N) struggled to explain, shaking her head. Her wet eyes found Annatar’s worried ones. “I saw, I…” She looked back at her father. “At first, I thought it was the forge burning… But it wasn’t.”

“What was it?” Celebrimbor asked, calmly.

His daughter hesitated with the answer as she shot a quick glance at her betrothed. She was afraid of him thinking badly of her – that she was descending into madness like her mother.

“I saw what mother had been seeing,” (Y/N) whispered as she looked down. “It was tall… and its skin was made of flames,” she continued but her gaze was being kept down, so he could not see the burning intensity of her lover’s gaze upon her. “It came toward me, breathing, reeking of death and I saw… I… I saw its eyes. Pitiless and eternal…” She began to sob again as she hid her face in her hands. “I think mother was right… It is here, it is already here…”

“My love, please,” Annatar moved finally as he approached (Y/N) softly to put his hands on her trembling arms. “You are with us now. There is nothing to fear,” he tried to comfort her in a delicate whisper as he looked up at Celebrimbor.

His friend was speechless and scared. Annatar understood why – he had lived through this before with his own wife and her ending had been nothing but tragic. Seeing the same thing happening again to his daughter had to be traumatic. And even though Annatar did not like the fact that Lady Dúlinnel and her daughter had visions warning them about him, he was sure he could still use their abilities in his game.

“Look around, my gentle darling,” Annatar whispered to his betrothed and lifted her chin up. “All is well, my love,” he smiled kindly at her and she sniffled her tears back before reaching her hands out to squeeze his desperately, seeking comfort. “All is well, I am here…” He assured her and gave her hands a gentle squeeze back.

“You must think so lowly of me now,” her lower lip trembled once more.

“No. No, my darling, no, how could I?” Annatar extended his hand out to caress her wet cheeks, glancing at her father from the corner of his eyes. Celebrimbor could do nothing but stare, being eaten alive by guilt that he could not offer the same comfort to his daughter but he was too scared and too shocked to even move slightly as he was still squeezing (Y/N)’s small hammer in his hands.

“You are the most understanding,” she sniffled her tears and closed her eyes as she leaned her cheek on Annatar’s hand. She looked so beautiful, he thought, with her cheeks wet from tears, while she was putting so much trust in him and him only.

As they stood there like that in silence, two guards stood in the doorway.

“My Lord, Celebrimbor,” one of the guards addressed him as he finally turned around to glance at them. “Forgive me, my Lord,” the guard bowed his head, “but Durin the Younger is arrived from Khazad-dûm.”

“No,” Celebrimbor shook his head, worryingly. “Tell him to wait, it is a family matter…”

“He says it is urgent. Something about the Rings,” the guard announced and now both Celebrimbor and Annatar seemed to be interested.

“I will see what he wants,” Annatar stepped out, moving his hands away from (Y/N).

“No,” Celebrimbor looked at him and put the hammer down on his daughter’s desk. “No, you stay here with (Y/N) for you are a far better comfort to her than I am these days. I will go,” he smiled widely at his friend but Annatar could sense that the Lord of Eregion was hiding something from him.

“Very well then,” Annatar nodded with a fake smile as well and he watched Celebrimbor disappear with the guards before turning around to look at his betrothed again. “My darling, sit,” he hurried back to her side and helped her to sit down on the armchair near the balcony as he opened the doors to let the fresh air inside. “Rest, gather your strength and your thoughts, I am not going anywhere,” he assured her and squeezed her hands lovingly as she looked up at him with the most devoted and affectionate eyes.

“Thank you,” she breathed out.

Annatar caressed her head and looked down at the mess on the floor. He quickly cleaned it up, making an impression of someone who would always pick up the broken glass pieces and calmly deal with the aftermaths of trouble. And once it was all done and the bigger gemstone pieces recovered from the dust were placed upon her desk, he took a deep breath in and walked outside to stand on the balcony to overhear the conversation between Celebrimbor and Durin from afar.

And just like he suspected, that awful Dwarf not only had arrived there to complain about the Ring seeming to be corrupted but he also dared to accuse him – Annatar himself, an emissary of the Valars – of having bad intentions.

And Annatar knew that Celebrimbor’s mind was already trying to shut him off more and more often. Now, Durin’s words planted yet a new seed of mistrust. Annatar was furious but he still had his plan B – sitting behind him and sniffling her tears away.

He composed himself and his angry facial expression turned into a soft one as he turned around to join (Y/N) in her chambers again. He crouched down next to her armchair and squeezed her arm.

“I am mad…” She whispered, feeling utterly defeated.

“No, you are not mad,” Annatar assured her, calmly. “You are very brave,” he caressed her arm now and reached all the way up to brush her cheeks with his fingertips. “Some who behold the Unseen world are never quite at home in this one again.”

“Like my mother?” (Y/N) turned her head around to look into his eyes with curiosity and desperation. She wanted answers to calm down and he would gladly give them to her.

“Yes, like your mother. She was not mad either. Simply… more delicate than you,” Annatar smiled at her, lovingly. “It is a gift to be able to see the Unseen world but it comes with a terrible price. A terrible burden,” he explained.

“Have you seen it, too?” (Y/N)’s eyes filled with pain and compassion for him even though she was the one who had just suffered.

“Yes,” Annatar nodded, softly. “In its light, things appear as they truly are. Beings of different shades of light…” His eyes wandered somewhere else, leaving her face and staring at the wall in front of him. “And its darkness…” He hesitated, making sure that she catches on to that and her curiosity would make her ask for more.

“There is something you hide from me, my love. Please, I wish to understand what has just happened to me… What happened to my mother,” (Y/N) reached her hands out to grasp his wrists and to lower them away from her face as she intertwined her fingers with his, looking down at them as she smiled sadly at the sight of their silver rings.

“It pains me to say…” Annatar faked as much suffering as he could in his eyes as he laid them upon her scared face. “For what you saw, I did not wish you to see, until I had helped him to heal.”

Long silence occurred and he could not only hear but also feel her heartbeat quickening its pace.

“You… You speak of my father?” (Y/N) asked, confused. “But we spoke about it, I suggested it in the very beginning and you–”

“I never denied it,” Annatar reminded her, his voice growing a tone harsher but not too much. He just wanted to emphasise his seriousness. “I simply changed the subject, I hoped to distract you because I did not want to worry you.”

“I… I do not understand…” She shook her head as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

“The toll that creation has exacted from him in crafting The Three and The Seven has left him diminished. Vulnerable to the shadow,” Annatar squeezed her hands to comfort her.

“But he created them because of you…” The glimpse of doubt and clarity in her eyes made him freeze for a moment as his jaw clenched.

“Your father is the greatest of the Elven smiths. The task given to him might be a burden but it is an honour. He was chosen by the Valars,” Annatar answered quickly. “Promise me, you’ll speak to no one about it, my love,” his voice turned much sweeter once again as he leaned in to be closer to her. “Including him.”

(Y/N) hesitated but having Annatar’s face so close to hers, to the point of their breaths mixing, his warmth comforting her and his hair brushing her cheeks while his gaze was the most intense. How could she ever say no to this man?

“I promise,” she breathed out and he cupped her face to pull her even closer and join their lips together in a loving, bittersweet kiss.

MASTERLIST

#annatar x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

112 notes · View notes

shirefantasies · 8 months ago

Note

the fellowship and how they would comfort you after a nightmare

Sure thing! This is such a cute idea I love it 🥺 no detail is given about the nature of the nightmare, so it’s pretty fluffy & open to interpretation 🥰

How The Fellowship Comforts You After a Nightmare

Aragorn

A pair of hands catch you about the waist. “Careful, beloved, you almost fell,” a deep voice whispers. Aragorn. You start despite the comforting voice, and he notices. Fixing you with a look of concern, he nods encouragingly, letting you speak; you tell him it was a nightmare. “What happened?” He asks, and he listens with great interest as you describe what you saw, what your mind forced you to experience. “The night can be false,” he tells you, moving so close you can feel his breath upon your ear, “bringing forth our greatest fears. But I am here with you in its darkness.” Nodding, you give a small smile as he takes your hands. “Come here,” he beckons, and acquiescing he tucks you into him, your back against his chest and his arm draped over you protectively.

Legolas

“Come." You hear Legolas before you see him, feel the way he reaches for you. Fingers intertwine with yours and shakily you reciprocate the grip. He raises you gently to a seated position, holding you lightly about the waist as you rotate in tandem. You’re facing the window, you realize, looking out into the night. “The stars,” Legolas breathes, “ever have they provided us with hope and comfort. They are looking out for us.” Mystic as his words are, you cannot help but admit that focusing on the distant, twinkling lights is calming, especially in Legolas’s arms. Silently, you nod. Legolas peers down at you thoughtfully before speaking again, pointing out stars and constellations until you are lulled into a much more peaceful sleep.

Boromir

A tear slides down your cheek, but before the lines to reality are fully crossed you feel a hand caress you, wipe the droplet gently. “What ever is the matter?” A voice you would recognize anywhere: Boromir. Before you can speak you’re latching onto him. Stroking the crown of your head, he questions again, this time asking if you are all right. “I will be,” you answer shakily. His lips fall to yours, firmly but with a sense of care, of loving. “Good. You have me until then, and, I’m afraid, long after that, too,” he jokes, pulling you closer. “That means more than you could ever know,” you mutter, nuzzling into his neck and giving in when he shifts to his back, your body draped over his like a warm blanket.

Gimli

Gasping and shooting upward, you are met with a shout that has you exclaiming as well, heart thundering in your chest. Suddenly, looking as though he’s been slapped, Gimli reaches for your hand, taking it in both of his. “Whatever is the matter, my jewel?” You cannot help cracking a feeble smile at his words of endearment even through the involuntary terror you’d awoken to. You apologize, tell him a nightmare had taken you. “Not if I have anything to say about it!” Gimli retorts. “Does it realize who it is up against?” Cue your beloved dwarf highlighting every amazing thing about you, from your beauty to your fighting spirit to simply poetry, all the wonderful things in this world you remind him of. “So if some dream thinks it can take you, it is sorely mistaken,” he concludes, looking satisfied at the upward tug of your lips, the bashful way your head falls against his chest.

Frodo

Stirs with immediate knowledge and understanding of what you are going through, having experienced it many times himself. No words are necessary, only the small, sad nod you share. Frodo's hand immediately trails up and down your arm, spreading grounding warmth across your skin. Your head falls back against his chest in defeat and with a deep breath, he pulls you flush against him, lips pressing against the crown of your head. Frodo never demands words, but listens with deep thoughtfulness if you wish to volunteer them and even shares any similarities in his so you know you are not alone. Especially if any of them embody your worst intrusive thoughts, the hardest things to share aloud. He only feels comfortable sharing the events of his own nightmares because of this dark bond you share, but seeing your face and feeling the caress of your hand upon his cheek is all it takes to cast a light back into his eyes, one that sparks the same for you.

Sam

Sam’s hold upon you is the first awareness you achieve as you are thrust back into reality, your eyelashes fluttering as you make out his form. The moment tension fades from your body, he’s pulling you into him, rocking you gently and running his hand through or over your hair. “Sam, I’m sorry -” “Shhh,” he soothes, smiling gently, almost tearfully, “there’s no need. There’s no need at all. Let’s just stay here.” At your nod, he rests his chin atop your head and tucks your bodies as close into each other as possible, limbs fitting together like puzzle pieces. The last sensation you remember before drifting off to sleep is Sam’s lips lightly pressed against your cheek.

Merry

A gasp alerts Merry to your plight, sending him shooting up into a seated position, looking around the room with concern before his eyes fall sympathetically to you. “Bad dream?” His voice is quiet, hoarse from lack of use. You just nod. “Well that won’t do,” he shoots back, sitting up further and extending a hand. Shakily you take it and are pulled up at his side, an arm slung around your shoulders. “In the Brandybuck household, bad dreams mean storytime,” he tells you with a growing smile, “so your choice. Family legend or embarrassing Pippin story?” You feel your lips curling upward, visions of your nightmare already fading. “Embarrassing Pippin story.” “Great choice! So this one time…well, we’d had one too many tankards, I’ll confess, but I was well until Pippin…”

Pippin

Does not wake up at your first stirring, but as you shift you feel his body move alongside you, turning to face your way. “Are you all right?" He whispers when you fall into his gaze, distress clear upon your face that you both feel and see mirrored in his. “Nightmare,” is all you have to whisper before you’re wrapped up completely in Pippin’s embrace, his legs tangling with yours as his arms wind around you. A smile breaks through on your face when you feel him nuzzle into you with his nose, leading you to snuggle in closer against his soft curls. “I’m always going to be here for you,” you hear him whisper, feel his warm breath as he speaks, “always.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gimli #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #ask #anon #requested

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fernpetals · 2 months ago

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The Night is Dark #1

Masterlist

Yandere Constantine x Reader

Oh, the night is dark and full of terror. It is true indeed. But you do not need to fear, you darling little thing. You have John Constantine by your side.

John Constantine whom the evil fears just slightly, thinking twice before attacking him. The man, who refuses to put a tag into whatever you two share, yet. But he is the first one to ask if you have reached your place safely, and on rare occasions, he isn't the one dropping you. He is the man to fume if another man as much as smiles at you.

John Constantine whose dark eyes softens just a bit when he looks down at you. His hands reach out to his pocket a he fishes out a packet of nicotine instead of the cigarettes, and every time he looks at your eyes, proud and twinkling under the downtown LA street lights, his heart swells a little bit more.

There are words spreading about you at Midnite's. Hushed whispers, side-eyes. But for now, no one dares to mess with one who has returned from the grasp of the Devil himself.

it makes you a little sad every time Constantine refuses to acknowledge what you two share. Something electric, something pure...

Maybe pure from your end. Constantine is almost ashamed of the nasty thoughts he has about you. Almost because this feels so natural, and perhaps the only thing that feels right about this world. He loves the feeling of your skin pressed against his. On the nights when you are a bit too drunk (you get drunk so easily, it is hilarious for him, but as long as you are under his supervision), he loves the way your lips feel against his, you respond without any question about the true nature of your relationship. It is complicated. He can hold you close without the fear of questions.

Questions, questions, and so many questions.

You ask too much and understand too little.

Can't you see? The moment the wrong kind of people know what you mean to him, they will come after you? Can't you see, he is cursed, doomed to be alone all his life while he drags himself through his miserable existence, searching for a way to save his soul?

Of course, you don't see it. Why would you still want him otherwise?

He cannot bring himself to see that you love him for what he is—in the mirror, he sees a doomed man, but to you, he is the love of your life.

Constantine is a coward. That is why when you drunkenly profess your love to him, he simply scoffs and tucks you to bed like he cares like he loves you back. But in that moment, when he can barely hold back his tears, he does admit it. He loves you too much, for a time too little left.

He thinks you have no memory of the previous night, and acts typically like himself--- detached, unbothered, and the asshole that he is.

But the thing is, you remember everything.

And you confront him about last night---you remember how his lips felt, you remember his soft eyes when he professed his love to you---you remember feeling like you won in life.

But the morning, he denies that on your face

"Do not delude yourself. You were dreaming. I simply tucked you in, silly girl. What were you on? Drugs?"

His words sting you in ways you cannot describe

It is like the final thread breaking after many blows of denials and disappointments. The thread has been pulled many times, and just as you feel like you have reached the top, holding on to it, Constantine snaps it. And you tumble down. Hard.

He is straight-faced, but you like he is laughing at you, mocking you. You cannot listen anymore. you hear everything yet nothing registers in your mind. it's like his voice is a muffled background noise.

Something in you withers. You realize that you have been waiting at an abandoned station---there will be no train coming for you. Ever.

"I need to go home. Bye."

You are surprised at the stability of your voice, even though there is a yawning pit forming in your stomach, and it is sucking in everything good in you and every comfort, every ounce of confidence, even emotions.

"Hey, I spent my morning making breakfast for two---"

You are too focused to care. Too focused on your escalating heartbeat and moving toward the door. Fast.

Once out and sitting in the subway, you allow the realisation to sink that the final blow that has broken your heart was delivered this morning, by none other than the very man you have always anticipated to deliver it, to break your heart. What you did not anticipate is the gut-wrenching pain that comes with the realisation, the acknowledgement and acceptance.

Constantine and you have no future together.

And it is time to give up.

(Do not worry, there will be a part 2)

#yandere constantine #constantine x reader #yandere constantine x reader #dark john constantine #keanyverse #keanu reeves #john constantine x reader #constantine 2005

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fishermanshook · 7 months ago

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LOVING YOU IS ALL I NEED!

( batter , first officer & forward relationship h/c's ) + gn!reader

# think of this as a pt. 2 to this fic , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

How these men show their undying love for their one and only—you.

꒰wc꒱ 1.1k

✦— THE BATTER

Ganji Gupta didn’t dare dream of the day he’d find his one and only, his true love, someone to grow old and tired with until his heart gave out on itself. Unfortunately, his newfound situation halted any progress he could’ve made.

That was until you arrived at the manor with a letter to hell in your hands. That was until he got to know you better. That was until you shared your first kiss on New Year’s Eve. Ever since then, he’s been completely and utterly yours.

Ganji Gupta is the type of man to show his love and devotion to you through meaningful Acts of Service. There’s little to nothing the Batter wouldn’t do for you. He isn’t above taking hits for you in matches when needed, and he will use his last ball to save you from getting sent back to the manor.

Ganji Gupta who, as much as he loves being on his own, gets a bit lonely at times. Therefore, he loves nothing more than to spend some Quality Time with you. He prefers long walks around the perimeter of the manor and also enjoys getting to rest his head in your lap as the two of you lounge about.

Ganji Gupta teaches you the recipes passed down to him by his Mother. It makes for a great way to spend time together whilst making sure he doesn’t forget them in the process. Cooking with you brings back bittersweet memories and reminds him of his Mother all too much.

Ganji Gupta frequently wakes up from relentless night terrors. He’s heard of other Survivors describing their own experiences with them but didn’t think it would happen to him. Now he finds himself waking up in a cold sweat and alone in bed with nobody to calm him down. This leads to him sleeping in your dorm room more often than not in a way to help combat these nightmares. Hopefully, he can get some rest tonight thanks to your help.

✦— FIRST OFFICER

Who doesn’t know the brave young man Jose Baden? The Sea Knight who wields a pocket watch said to have been blessed by Posiden himself, the artifact that always ensures smooth sailing? The First Officer is punctual, humble, and always knows what he wants. He just didn’t expect it to be you.

Nonetheless, the heart can guide a man better than any map can. He may indeed have fallen for you first, but you undeniably fell harder. Although, who wouldn’t with the way he constantly sweeps you off your feet?

Jose Baden is always true to his words when it comes to you, and therefore showers you with Words of Affirmation. It makes communication between the two of you much easier when there’s nothing to hide. And there are only so many words to describe his love for you, so we’ll have to start from the top and work our way down.

Jose Baden, who cannot keep his hands off you. No matter where the two of you are. Physical Affection is this man's specialty and has been embedded into his DNA. It's the simple things like his pinky finger being entwined with yours or his arm around your shoulder, holding you close.

Jose Baden isn’t afraid to show his love for you in front of others and would never shy away from it. It’s truly a gift to be head over heels, so why hide it? Why not show off what he’s got and everything that’s so precious about ‘em?

Jose Baden who can’t help but take a hit for you in games. He doesn’t ever want to see your blood spilled, and would rather have his coat on the map instead. He’s ready to face the stern talking you’ll give him after the match, but you’ll patch him up anyway.

Jose Baden doesn't like admitting the fact that he misses the sea badly. The things Jose would do just for an evening back on the ocean are wild and many. The closest thing he's got is Lakeside Village, but even the calming waves that brush upon the shore can't heal the pain in his heart. The Officer will admit his feelings to you in an act of desperation and comfort. And comfort he receives from you. From cuddling and listening to him rant about the ocean for the 100th time to peppering his face with soft kisses that seemingly never stop.

✦— FORWARD

Said to have been the creator of Rugby himself, you always want William Ellis on your team. He successfully lifts the spirits of all his teammates while headbutting into the Hunter just before they use excitement. It's the thought that counts, right?

To have William in your corner means to have someone who is with you through thick and thin. Someone who will stick by your side until the end of time itself. And until you can finally realize just how much the Rugby Star adores you.

William Ellis who can’t help but hold you close. Physical Affection is this man’s go-to for showing how much he loves you. Like Jose, he will never feel embarrassed or ashamed when showering you with his form of love and affection. He’s either got an arm around your waist or your hand in his—there’s no in-between.

William Ellis loves Giving Gifts just as much as he loves Receiving Them. While the Forward’s not the best at picking out pre-made gifts, he is the best at making ones straight from the heart. Using his clues and fragments, he’ll craft something he finds worthy of gifting you. Whether it be something like a small, red box in the shape of a heart or a bracelet that has your and his initials on it, the gifts are all made with you in mind.

That being said, William Ellis will treasure anything you gift him in return. And that can be anything. Silly little notes passed underneath the table during dinner. A beaded anklet that has left a tan mark because he never takes it off. Or a smaller version of his Ruby ball with every stitch being almost exact.

William Ellis who’s afraid he might not be good enough for you. Who fears that one day he may be forgotten by everyone he’s ever loved. Maybe that’s why he works so damn hard. To prove to himself (and others) that he’s worth remembering. Fortunately, there’s no need to go the extra mile when it comes to you. William’s proven himself more than enough already, hasn’t he?

note: a little gift for all my Ganji, William, and Jose lovers out there. made 4: @rieuvie + @williamkisser + @ch6douin +@jklovu + @5ku11h34rt

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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faux-ee · 5 months ago

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Fyodor’s Ability: Body Possession and The Possessed

Note: If you don’t want to read the looong premise just jump to the paragraph where I started with “the core idea,” I have it bolded and underlined.

Hi bsd fandom how are you…I don’t think anyone would remember me but I used to be one of the craziest fyolai enjoyers on this site. My irl life has honestly been a mess for the past years (and it still is ngl), but recently I went back to reading bsd and I’m so satisfied with Fyodor’s ability, I have to write something about it.

I’m not THAT obsessed with fyolai now; my current and perhaps forever obsession is the ship of Stavrogin x Pyotr (stavrovensky) from Dostoevsky’s novel, The Possessed (I have never been the same after this ship...I’ll elaborate on how incredible and messed up it is if anyone is curious about that), and with my tradition of studying fyolai alongside stavrovensky, even back when I was still mostly a bsd fan and understood very little about the latter, I was REALLY happy with how Fyodor’s ability has turned out, with all the implications of Possession.

Let’s first establish that Asagiri totally has knowledge of The Possessed. He not only quoted it but also kinda borrowed the whole “group of five spreading evil and destroying the world” idea from it, and perhaps even modeled some scenes after the book’s 2014 TV adaptation. Goncharov, who pours tea for Fyodor and wants to feel “all is well,” can be seen as a parody of Kirillov and his speech in The Possessed, a character that happens to be an architect (remember Goncharov’s ability?).

Kirillov is also discussed in length by Camus — having adapted the book into a play — who wrote The Stranger and created Meursault. BSD became explicitly a metafiction after Gogol’s appearance, and The Possessed is a chronicle of events provided by an unreliable narrator, who seems weirdly omniscent, and the story also quickly tumbles into turmoil after certain characters’ sudden appearance. One scholar argues that the narrator is only making up a story and trying to make what happens seem logical, while it really is not. Gogol’s pretending to be a government official/one of the police, gunning Atsushi in a tunnel, and making the Agency take his blame for terrorism also echoes strongly the events in The Possessed. I won’t spoil you further though.

The core idea of Dostoevsky’s The Possessed, or in some translations The Devils, or Demons, is that people who cannot think for themselves are often easily possessed by ideas planted into their heads — then driven to madness and self-destruction by what they think they have thought up themselves. Hell if that doesn’t sound familiar; that’s all Fyodor’s been doing to others, and it’s what he basically said in Chapter 42.

("being led by the nose" also appears in the book, it's one of it's crackiest jokes, but i'm not sure if it's just a matter of translation in bsd.)

Asagiri said he got the idea of Crime and Punishment being doubles from Ivan Karamazov, who truly is just a less stable/powerful version of Stavrogin in terms of intellect, the incarnation of the Devil — of Lucifer, in some Dostoevsky scholars’ words — the mysterious, beautiful protagonist of The Possessed shrouded by too many secrets, none of which gives a clue about his true character and purpose. (irl Dostoy said he “tore him [Stavrogin] out of my heart”; you can say he’s the author's special blorbo LOL).

His name literally means “cross (stav)” + “horn (rog)”, showing the heaven-hell conflict within his character. Stavrogin sometimes sees a demon double of himself, too; like BSD Fyodor, he made peace with it (the paragraphs describing this is cut from some versions of the book).

And like Fyodor, Stavrogin represents something “more evil than evil”: the void; but a void that could mess up people’s minds by “understanding” them, giving them answers for what they should be after, thus tricking them into abandoning their lives for this one pursuit, one impossible ideal. He used these ideas which he himself didn’t believe in to possess people, in every meaning of that word, and this possession comes with the process of enter into. People are no longer themselves, but — in many Dostoevsky scholars’ opinion — doubles of Stavrogin, shells of themselves that carry the pieces of this one nihilistic demon.

Characters affected the most by Stavrogin in The Possessed let these toxic ideas enter their heads, because they are trying to get rid of unbelief and skepticism about god — kill their inner demons/defend themselves against Satan’s call. You could say they stepped right into Stavrogin’s twisted experiment just as they were trying to kill the heaven-hell ambivalence within themselves; kill “Stavrogin”.

Tl;dr When people are trying to kill Fyodor, they are possessed by him and become doubles of him, but not complete replicas; they retain their personality in some way, but only through their own fixations that get integrated into Fyodor, the demon. It’s like black is the mixture of all colors, and chaos is a cacophony of all sounds. When they die, Fyodor exits the body with a darker, heavier, emptier soul, and enters into the next victim, who tried fruitlessly to defeat him.

(In The Possessed, it is said that people who are possessed by ideas are basically consumed by them; their personal views on life are replaced by unreasonable fixations of the mind, which they devote their hearts wholly into. Nicolas Berdyaev connected this kind of fixation to the search for freedom and to attain godhood in his book Dostoevsky. This is a horrifying observation of the human psyche by irl Dostoy but it also reminds me of how Fyodor has described the singularity.)

There are other startling similarities between Fyodor and Stavrogin that I didn't mention. Please go read the book, it is in no way a daunting classic - it is supposed to be dark comedy; and if you can't stand old people drama, start from Volume 2, you might just experience the DoA arc all over...

P.P.S, It has been pointed out how fyolai interactions and their mannerisms mirror scenes and characters in The Possessed (2014). these two ships of crazy russian terrorists differ significantly while being similar on the surface (grumpy x sunshine, the religious/philosophical discussion on evil, soulmates, kill your darling etc.) but this is not the point of this post so I’ll leave it for now.

#bsd #bsd meta #bungo stray dogs #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #the possessed

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vickyvicarious · 3 months ago

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Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy all the time, and I cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. She is quite odd in one thing: she will not admit to me that there is any cause for restlessness; or if there be, she does not understand it herself.

This line is so interesting to me, because it's part of the pre-Dracula sleepwalking, and yet already we are seeing this element of Lucy not knowing what is going on with herself. Not simply with regards to her not knowing that she's sleepwalking - but something deeper, a possible failure to understand that there may be any reason for restlessness at all. In other words, she might not even realize that she is stressed (enough to affect her mood/health).

Of course, the other option is that she knows it full well but isn't willing to admit to it. And that certainly fits with the themes explored in her story! I do think to a certain degree it has to be true that Lucy knows things are wrong but doesn't want to admit to that. In fact, we get confirmation of her doing this at various points. But those are more about physical issues. This line suggests Lucy might be in denial or unable to recognize her own emotions when they are not positive or do not correspond with what is expected for her. For example, she should be happy about getting married to Arthur, so anything outside happiness is repressed. I want to make it very clear that I'm not suggesting she doesn't feel this happiness. She loves him, she's excited to marry him. Period. However, she may also be stressed about other things in conjunction with this. Later on in this same entry, Mina describes Lucy's reaction to the abuse of the pet dog:

Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely than other people do. [...] I greatly fear that she is of too super-sensitive a nature to go through the world without trouble. She will be dreaming of this to-night, I am sure. The whole agglomeration of things—the ship steered into port by a dead man; his attitude, tied to the wheel with a crucifix and beads; the touching funeral; the dog, now furious and now in terror—will all afford material for her dreams.

These lines about Lucy feeling influences and being super-sensitive... Mina means them here in the sense that she will be very upset and affected by all of these distressing experiences, more than other people would. But the story itself certainly seems to suggest that Lucy is more susceptible to magical influences as well, what with the fallout being Lucy delivering herself to Dracula. There's ambiguity whether she was simply returning to her favored seat, or whether Lucy, much like the dog, felt Dracula's presence during the funeral. The reader is free to interpret what they like here, and I've waffled on it myself in the past. But there's a couple things that make me think 'both' might be the answer, and one of them is the link between Lucy and the dog.

During the funeral, the dog behaves uncharacteristically in a couple of ways. Initially, its reaction to Dracula is noise and protective behaviors. This is consistent with other dogs who have been in his presence, but isn't typical for this dog in particular (and thus is definitely due to him). But once it is forced onto the gravestone above him, it cannot try to alarm or fight anymore. Instead, it sinks into a state of terror and seems unable to flee. At the same time, Lucy is clearly also very distressed, but makes no move to help the dog.

They are both quiet persons, and I never saw the man angry, nor heard the dog bark. During the service the dog would not come to its master, who was on the seat with us, but kept a few yards off, barking and howling. Its master spoke to it gently, and then harshly, and then angrily; but it would neither come nor cease to make a noise. It was in a sort of fury, with its eyes savage, and all its hairs bristling out like a cat's tail when puss is on the war-path. Finally the man, too, got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog, and then took it by the scruff of the neck and half dragged and half threw it on the tombstone on which the seat is fixed. The moment it touched the stone the poor thing became quiet and fell all into a tremble. It did not try to get away, but crouched down, quivering and cowering, and was in such a pitiable state of terror that I tried, though without effect, to comfort it. Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not attempt to touch the dog, but looked at it in an agonised sort of way.

In the past, dogs have raised the alarm against Dracula, but we've never actually seen them meet him on the page so much as heard about it afterwards. It's possible that they always cower once he gets too close. But it's also possible that the dog's close proximity to him here allowed him to influence it in some way, perhaps similar to the way he used his paralyzing gaze on Jonathan during the shovel attack (though obviously not relying on line of sight in this case). Regardless if it was an automatic aura or a more deliberate action on his part, it seems clear that the dog was affected by being so close to Dracula. And I wonder if Lucy's "super-sensitive nature" allowed her to sort of... pick up on that influence. Her behavior matches the dog's in the moment. She too is deeply distressed but seems unable to move, only to look on. She's also atop the grave Dracula is in at the time. And perhaps that influence lingers, affecting her in her sleep even as Mina fears the other events of that day might. Perhaps it draws her back to the place she first felt it, a place that her sleepwalking self is naturally already inclined to head towards. Something she feels, but cannot verbalize, and does not even necessarily understand she is feeling.

Perhaps her sleepwalking was influenced by others in the first place, without her even realizing it. I do think Lucy is more observant than she's given credit for, and she could very well be noticing Mina's distress and her mother's illness. But she could also, with this theory, be affected by them in a subconscious way, enough to influence her own health and sleep.

Basically, what I'm hinting at is some kind of unaware empath(ish) Lucy. I think it could work really well with established themes and details. It would tie in so well with details like her looking in her mirror and trying to read herself, or her sleepwalking in her youth, her father sleepwalking, her father being dead. (Perhaps he too had this ability. Perhaps he was ill when she was sleepwalking as a child.) It also could be such an interesting piece of everything surrounded the theme of keeping up appearances, putting on a happy face, not voicing distress. Her mother has taught her to be this way - and sure, it's a function of her societal role, but also... maybe it's related to her knowing Lucy is different in some way even if she can't verbalize how. The people-pleasing tendencies, her distress at turning down the suitors: sure, she's a very sweet person, but also what if she feels their distress too in a much more literal way than most people?

Perhaps Lucy has always been this way. Perhaps she has shared in the distress others feel to the point that it has made her sickly in the past... this could be a contributing factor to the way her mother tends to infantilize her and want her to be 'cared for', to the way Mina observes her health so closely from the start. Maybe Mrs. Westenra is trying to hide her illness because she thinks Lucy couldn't handle knowing about it, without being aware that Lucy is already affected by it even without the knowledge. The only difference that is made is that Lucy know doesn't know why she is affected, or even the full extent of how she is affected at all.

It works so well with everything happening with Lucy, both now and later! Of course you don't have to read her as any form of psychic (she could still be picking up on things just through observation, or just be stressed about the big life change of becoming a married woman), but it is really fun to do so. And it fits all the themes.

#dracula daily #lucy westenra #probably other people have thought about this before but i've not really sat down and considered it #dracula meta #my meta

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years ago

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{7} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 8,120

Warnings: Anxiety and PTSD, mental illness, and inferred depression. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Emotional turmoil is always a fun thing haha but I promise there is light at the end of the tunnel! Next chapter should be a bit longer hopefully, so I hope you'll excuse these shorter ones for now. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

Falling.

The harsh whipping of wind against your skin is all you can hear as you tumble towards the earth. Each breath is a struggle as you attempt to fill your burning lungs with air, the pressure of such an altitude detrimental to your every move. Your chest aches, throat scraped raw with the shrill shrieks of terror that escape you as you tumble through the sky. Tears leak from your eyes uncontrollably, lids squeezing shut in tandem as you can barely get a grip on your surroundings.

Everywhere, all you can feel is pain.

Free falling has always been described to you as a feeling of utter weightlessness, but there isn’t a cell in your body that you cannot feel. All of which are heavily screaming at you in terror.

Never have you been able to feel the full weight of your heart as you do right now, every twitch of your fingers sending jolts of unpleasant electricity racing up your arms. The cold of your body slicing through the air is unlike any sensation you’ve felt before, and with every foot lost, you gain momentum.

Is this how it all ends? After nearly killing a man that you love, having him admit your worst fear for the moment that you are to blame, and having your heart nearly burst from your chest at the sheer pressure of its pulse, you will land upon the earth like a falling star?

Your skin begins to heat, replacing the utter cold you had been feeling only moments before.

You don’t want to die. Not like this. Not now.

You got yourself into this mess, you can certainly get yourself out of it. Though, you have no idea how far the ground is from you. You could make impact at any second, and you count yourself lucky that you’ve lasted this long already.

Concentrating hard, you focus in on your room back home. Perhaps you can simply transport yourself onto your bed, and forget that this ever happened for a little while. Hopefully, you won’t be disturbed, either. None of them will probably want to see you, anyways. Not after what you’ve done to their brother.

Yet, no one will be able to blame you as much as you blame yourself. The guilt begins to eat you alive, mind darkening into that familiar negative territory the longer you allow your thoughts to go unchecked.

A sob tears from your throat.

Faintly, you feel several worried brushes against your void. Three are much more urgent and firmer than the others, constantly keeping pressed up against you as their strings all hum furiously with movement.

What would happen should you choose to open your mind to them? Would they forgive you? Would they figure out what’s going on and leave you to suffer?

No. You know that they wouldn’t. They could never.

But then, how long would it take for them to find you?

Too many thoughts continue to race through your mind, clouding your better judgment and drowning you in self-doubt. Your emotions are all over the place, but the constant ache in your chest reminds you of the harsh reality that has just occurred. Honestly, you just wish you could numb the pain.

How much time do you have left? You seem to be falling for quite a while. Perhaps you started from a higher altitude than you had originally realized. Jongho’s blood is still running through your veins, after all.

Again, several frantic brushes against your void are felt, much more urgent than the first.

Fear grips you once more as you attempt to crack an eye open. You can barely see through your blurred vision, the wind whipping passed you and stinging you all over. All you can recognize is mountains, and a large lake that seems to be getting closer and closer with each passing second.

Another scream of absolute horror rips passed your lips. You feel as if your heart is about to burst from the intensity of its beating within your chest. The ground below gets closer and closer, and your mind scrambles with what to do.

Only one thought begins to get clearer and clearer: you need help.

A glint of gold flashes out of the corner of your eye, and your whole body shakes as a tremendous roar pierces through the air. A presence begins to fall alongside you, large and ominous, but you do not feel threatened. No. Instead, you are relieved; comforted in an unfamiliar way as a faint glow begins to emanate from your brow.

Suddenly, it’s as if the whole world stops.

No longer feeling the intense harshness of the wind as it whips passed you, you crack open your eyes.

A level view of the surrounding mountains greets your gaze, and it is then that you realize that you are gliding through the air. Your hands grip onto something solid beneath you, and when you look down, you see scales beneath your fingertips.

Not just any scales.

Dragon scales.

The dragon is unlike any that you have seen before, the sheer size of it spanning at least fifty metres in length. The scales are a matte black, gold weaving throughout the cracks between and glinting beneath the light of the moon. Spikes line the crown of her head, golden veins lining the horns which protrude from her skin. Seamlessly, she blends into the night surrounding her, nothing more than a dark blur against the clouds.

You don’t have to meet her gaze to know that it’s a deep gold.

A second later, and a dark blue dragon circles around the larger one’s back, followed by a green amphiptere who’s tail flicks worriedly behind her. Both shift to fly closer to you, situating themselves above the large dragon you rest upon and flanking you on either side.

Silent tears continue to stream down your face the entire flight back to the dragon’s nest. Luckily, it seems as if you’ve managed to teleport yourself quite close by.

Fifteen minutes later, and that little cliff face is in sight, an albino wyrm slithering restlessly back and forth.

Mon is the first to offer you help down from the large dragon’s back, sliding up beside you and allowing you to grip onto him as you climb down. Both Xiron and Yerra hover close by, offering their assistance in any way that they can.

A blink, and Wyno is standing before you.

You don’t even have a chance to say anything before both of her hands are coming up to cup your face tenderly. Nothing but concern can be seen in her golden eyes as she searches your gaze.

“My Child,” her voice is low, steady as she searches your bloodstained face. “What happened?”

Several frantic brushes are felt against your void, each male trying desperately to reach out to you. You know they’re probably worried out of their minds right now, but the feeling only makes you feel worse.

For the third time that day, you break down.

Immediately, Wyno wraps you in her arms, your whole body collapsing into her hold. Sobs wrack your entire form, tears streaming seemingly endlessly from your eyes as your grip tightens around her. Gently, she strokes your back, cooing comforting words into your ear as she begins to calm you down.

You can faintly hear worried whines coming from the three young dragons surrounding you. Soft coos of their own escape them as you feel them tenderly nudge their heads against your lower back and legs. A reassurance that they’re all here.

“Shh,” Wyno brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head. “My Child, let it all out. I’m right here; you are not alone.”

You sob harder.

“Whenever you’re ready, My Child, know that I will listen to whatever it is you have to tell me.” She assures you.

Your void rumbles. Urgently, each male attempts to reach out to you, desperate for an answer.

Faintly, you brush back.

The instant you finish brushing against their strings, their attempts to contact you strengthen tenfold.

You nearly stumble on your feet, legs threatening to give out at any moment. The constant feeling of them pressing against your mind only makes your mood drop further, your throat tightening as your emotions consume you.

“I can’t-“ you shake your head, whole body trembling in her embrace. “I can’t-“

“Let’s get you inside,” Wyno keeps her voice steady, wrapping her arm around your waist carefully for support as she begins to guide you towards the cave.

A minute later, and she’s sat you down in a small wicker chair. Another, and a steaming cup of tea is handed to you, the three young dragons surrounding you on either side. A cloth rests in her hands as she dabs the damp material against your skin, cleaning the now long since dried blood from your features.

Slowly, you manage to get your breathing under control, thanking Wyno lightly. She sends you a small, tense smile back. Once she’s finished cleaning you up and attending your wounds, she pulls a silk robe around her shoulders. Then, she’s sitting across from you.

“Do they at least know where you are?” Calm are her words, gentle in her inquiry.

You shake your head, taking a light sip of your tea.

“Do you want them to know where you are?”

A brief pause where you consider her question.

A blink, and you’re shaking your head yet again.

“At least-” your voice comes out raw and strained. You clear your throat. “At least not for now.”

“I do not know what happened, My Child, but do not underestimate the lengths they will go to find you.” She addresses you cautiously. “They would tear the whole world apart looking for you.”

Your gaze drops, a sadness taking over your features.

“Do they at least know that you’re safe?”

“I-“ you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as your head begins to pound beneath their constant bombardment. “I don’t know.”

Wyno inhales a deep breath before making a clicking sound twice through her teeth.

A blink, and Stella appears hovering in the air between the two of you.

Softly, the raven coos at you, circling lightly around your head as she sees the state of distress you seem to be in.

More clicks can be heard from Wyno, Stella landing on your shoulder and standing at attention. You swear you almost see the raven nodding in understanding.

“Do you have anything on you that Stella can bring to them to let them know you’re alright?” Wyno turns her golden gaze to you.

“Uh,” you swallow lightly, blinking all the while. “Yeah.” You clear your throat. “Yes.”

Moving your hands to the back of your neck, you unclasp the necklace you always wear. The chain hangs precariously from your hand, the replica of Arwen’s Evenstar dangling like a gem in the somewhat dim light of the cave.

“I have told Stella not to let them know where you are until you are ready to see them, but they are stubborn.” Wyno informs you. “They might demand she tell them. They may search her mind, or force it out of her with their powers. Either way, she will stay with them until the task is complete, and I summon her again.”

You nod your understanding, watching as Stella gently clasps your necklace in her beak by the chain. Another soft coo is heard from her.

“She wishes you well,” Wyno hums, somewhat approvingly. “Also, that she’ll peck out the eyes of whoever hurt you.”

You manage a small chuckle at that.

“Thank you, Stella.” Your lips pull upwards weakly in the corners. “But I did this to myself.”

A concerned caw greets your ears.

“Hurry, Stella,” Wyno inclines her head. “Before they start tearing the realms apart.”

In the blink of an eye, the raven has disappeared from sight.

Your gaze falls to the cup in your hands, thumb tracing the side of the ceramic gently. Your shoulders curl in on yourself, but at least you immediately begin to feel some relief from their constant brushing against your void. Still, you recognize those same three strings - one royal blue, one lavender, and one yellow - all humming faintly in worry, even more so than the others.

“Now,” Wyno draws your attention back to her once more as she sits forward in her seat. “What is it that you believe you’ve done that warranted you crashing to the earth like an astroid of old?”

Your whole body stills, and you swear you forget to breathe. Finally, that feeling of numbness you had so desperately been hoping for begins to spread throughout your body. It starts in your chest, creeping outwards as you continue to stare down at the cup of tea held desperately in your hands.

Your lips part, only to close shortly after. No words escape you despite the fact that it all wants to come spilling out. You don’t want to burden Wyno with your problems. Problems of which you hadn’t realized had still been bothering you until today.

“Speak, My Child.” She keeps her tone steady, but still tender all the same. “It is best not to allow these thoughts to fester, lest they continue to consume you. I promise that I will listen, and provide my best insight should you desire it.”

Mon soon slithers beneath the legs of the chair, resting his head by your feet and nudging you in comfort. Xiron comes to sit on one side of you, while Yerra takes the other. Faintly, you register the feeling of a wing wrapping around your back in comfort. Turning your head, you see a translucent blue hue shining beneath the light of the cave. You smile weakly.

“I-“ Again, your voice catches in your throat. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Begin wherever you deem it necessary for me to understand.” She smiles assuringly at you, a hand reaching over to squeeze your knee.

Softly, you nod your head. Taking a deep breath in, you begin.

You do not start at the very beginning, no, but you go far enough back where you deem all of these current issues started.

Naturally, you begin with Miyeon’s torture. You explain to Wyno every minute detail of that day that demon appeared in their domain. Nothing is spared, and you divulge to her the hurt you had undergone. The hurt you’re still suffering from because of her. Facts of which even the males have never been privy to, lest they recall the state your body had been in when they arrived back home.

The way you can see her jaw clench, claws sharpening into points as she curls her hands into fists on her lap has you shifting in your spot. Low, threatening growls escape her with each exhale, her fangs on full display as her lips curl back over her teeth.

Luckily, none of the males seem to appear at any point. Looks like Stella is keeping them away for the time being. A fact which helps your shoulders to relax, even unknowingly, the longer that they stay away.

Quietly, Wyno takes your one hand in hers, listening to everything you have to tell her. She is able to calm herself enough to allow you to continue, patiently sitting beside you the whole time and offering you comforts in her own way. You don’t seem to realize, but when you are explaining what happened three days after the events of Miyeon, your whole visage begins to glow softly.

Recovery is a tricky path to navigate, but even she can tell that those eight males have helped you in more ways than you realize. You spoke true two days ago, and you understand that. Even if your state of mind seems to be battling your logic and reason for the moment.

Sometime during your recount, you manage to finish your cup of tea. You place the empty cup down, only for Yerra to gently rest her head in your lap. The young dragon nuzzles into you affectionately, nothing but worry shining within her eyes. Though, she cannot help the way they flutter shut once you begin to stroke your free hand over the top of her scales.

The more you speak, the more you seem to relax. The words flow from you like a steady stream, cleansing your soul with each second that passes. The fact that Wyno simply just listens is more than you could have ever hoped for right now, and you’re grateful she’s letting you get it all out.

When you finish your recount of the harpy meeting, Wyno finally allows herself to let out a snort.

“You certainly did put that chicken in her place, My Child.” She grins, noticing how your lips quirk faintly. “Only a true Queen could do that.”

You can feel your cheeks heat, thanking her lowly before continuing.

Finally, you begin to breach the events of the last twelve hours. Of course, you remain vague about all of the explicit details, but from the knowing look in Wyno’s gaze, you can tell that she’s long since figured that out.

“Yes, I had assumed something of the sort,” Wyno nods, recognizing how you begin to slow down in your retelling as the most recent memories begin to consume you. “I can smell him all over you.”

A grimace crosses your features as your fingers begin to subtly press a little firmer into Yerra’s head. She appears to be sleeping, eyes closed as her chest rises and falls evenly while resting in your lap.

“You consumed his blood.” Not a question, but an observation.

“And he consumed mine.” You confirm.

“Which explains how we found you tumbling through the air earlier.” Wyno nods.

Your brow furrows. “I did that?”

“My child, who else could it have been?” She chuckles. “You have already divulged that the eldest’s blood allows you to glance spirit souls. Is it not so farfetched to believe that the youngest’s could allow you to teleport?”

“No.” You rub the tips of your fingers together gently over the skin of your thumb, mocking the way they would trace over your therapy pebble. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Now, tell me what warranted all of this.” She squeezes your other hand reassuringly.

You take a shaky breath in, averting your gaze in shame as you confess to everything that has just happened to you.

The whole time, Wyno remains quiet. Her golden eyes scan your face carefully, noting every small twitch of your brow and downturn of your lips. She can hear the pain you fight through with each word. The guilt, self-doubt, and remorse you hold onto comes through loud and clear.

Your gaze is haunted, and a chill runs down your spine. There are tears in your eyes as you admit to what Jongho said right before you disappeared, whole body trembling as you succumb to your emotions once more.

Faintly, you register Mon slither out from beneath the chair.

“My Child, please look at me,” Wyno’s voice is gentle as she shifts forward on her chair to get closer to you.

You raise your head, whole body nearly jolting as you feel something being placed carefully onto your shoulders

“Do you truly believe those were all of the words that he wanted to say?” Wyno reaches forward to help Mon wrap your jacket around your upper body.

Your whole body deflates. “I don’t know.”

“After the evening you have just told me the two of you had shared, do you truly believe that he would blame you for this?” Wyno attempts to reason with you, hands rubbing over your arms lightly in comfort.

“How could he not? It’s all my fault.” You choke on a sob.

“Tell me, My Child,” she manages to get you to meet her gaze and you notice her eyes flash, “do you blame them for what happened with that one?”

You blink, caught off guard by her sudden question. “Of course not! I could never-“

“Do you not think that they do not blame themselves for everything she has done, and all that she continues to do to you?” Wyno continues to reason.

“But it’s not their fault! I-” Your voice catches in your throat.

Wyno quirks a brow, looking at you expectantly. You fall silent.

“We act in ways we deem appropriate at the time in which these incidents occur. It is not your fault you were deceived; you do not control the actions of others.” She holds you firmly in her grip, squeezing your arms reassuringly. “You do not think I cannot still see the guilt that clings to them for ever allowing you to reach such a broken state at another’s hands?”

You remain quiet.

“You nine are all more alike than you think.” She hums. “Yes, you probably could have taken a moment to think things through, but when someone you love is at stake, logic is not always your friend.”

“Jongho still got hurt because of me.” You reply lowly, eyebrows drooping as you stare at the ground.

“You said he jumped in front of you. Not once, but twice, correct?” She tilts her head knowingly.

You nod your head.

“Then, that was his choice.” She shifts her hands to hold your own in her grasp once more. “He could have let you been hit both times, but he chose to save you. I have known him far longer than you, My Child, and were he feeling truly petty, he would have let both those weapons meet their marks. Do not twist his efforts to protect and help you into something that they are not. I have seen the way he looks at you. How his aura shines alongside your own. Do not make the man you love into a heartless monster. Least of all towards you.”

Tears begin to gather in the corner of your eyes for the nth time that morning, and you do whatever you can to blink them away.

The sun begins to rise over the horizon.

“Just because you blame yourself, does not mean that they will.” Wyno is a bit blunt when she says this, but you know it’s all spoken with good intent. “You made a mistake, and it seems as if this was the final piece which shattered the glass you had been looking through to keep yourself sane.”

“My Child, you are trying so hard to be brave, and strong when you haven’t allowed yourself proper time to grieve who you once were. Whether any of you wish to acknowledge it or not, that woman did kill a part of you that day. You may not have ceased to breathe, but she certainly destroyed a portion of who you once were. A portion you may never get to reclaim, nor should you want to.”

Wyno takes a moment to pause, inhaling deeply before she continues.

“I did not lie when I said that you have become stronger because of what has happened. Everything in your life leading up to this moment in time has made you who you are. As much as you wish to believe that you are passed this trauma, it will live with you every day until this whole rebellion is complete.” She states. “Whether it will end in victory or death, that has still yet to be determined. Do not create more issues where none lay.”

Your hands begin to shake, the numbness that had been felt throughout your entire body receding.

“But this is an issue, Wyno!” You practically spring to your feet, barely registering the huff of surprise Yerra lets out as she just catches her head from hitting the floor. “I indirectly hurt their brother. I nearly caused the death of a man I love because I let fear control me. How could they even bear to look at me now after what I’ve done? This incident has only just solidified that I’m barely holding myself together. I can put up a brave front, and act like I’m fine, but I’m not! I’m no Queen, and I need to stop pretending to be one.”

Wyno takes a moment to observe you carefully, golden eyes trailing over your figure as she watches you tremble in your spot. Your admission seems to have surprised even you, your eyes wide as your chest heaves.

“What is it you are truly afraid of, My Child?” She stands to her own two feet slowly.

At the way you remain silent, she’s quick to continue.

“Do you truly believe that they could hate you for this? For anything, for that matter?” She takes a step closer, staring you down all the while. “Do you believe they would turn on you for worrying about your family in the same ways that they worry about you? You have already confided in me that they've told you that they do not blame you for this. Is it not within yourself to believe them? Have they ever lied to you, least of all when your own feelings are concerned?”

Your hands cling desperately to the edges of your jacket, tears beginning to stream down your face as you watch her approach. Faintly, you register Mon brushing up against you back and holding you steady.

“Even now, I would bet all of the jewels in all of the realms that they are continuing to reach out to you in that mind of yours to know that you’re safe.” She says. “To know that you are still alive and breathing.”

Sure enough, you feel the faint brushes of assurance from all seven of them as soon as she says this. All several of their strings continue to hum in worry.

“Do you know how difficult it is to convince that Captain of theirs to change his mind when he sets his own course of action?” Wyno comes to stand before you now, placing her hands onto your arms reassuringly. “None of them have the ability to be patient when your safety is at risk, let alone your own personal wellbeing. I would bet anything that they wanted to appear here instantly after pulling the information out of Stella using any means necessary. However, they held off. For you, because that is what you asked of them.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat.

“Your Eight Kings do not particularly enjoy taking orders, or listening to others who attempt to command or control them.” Her tone is firm as you meet her gaze. “However, they will always listen to you.”

A blink, and you’re swallow thickly.

“No, My Child. There is no need for you to pretend to be their Queen,” she wipes your tears away so gently as she cradles your face in her hands. “You already are.”

You lower lip wobbles and she pulls you back into her embrace. One of her hands supports the back of your head while the other strokes comfortingly over your spine. Again, you bury your face into the side of her neck.

“Whether you know it or not, whether you acknowledge it or not, they have always viewed you as their Queen.” She whispers lowly into your ear.

A shudder wracks your chest as you attempt to catch your breath.

“Let me ask you this, My Child,” she tilts her head so that it rests against your own. “If the roles had been reversed, would you not have done the same? Would you not have given anything to protect him in the moment, if you had been able to?”

“Without question.” You breathe, tightening your hold subconsciously around Wyno’s back.

“This is not the first time you have experienced each other being injured in front of your very eyes.” Wyno says, and your mind flashes to the very first time you had ever met the dragons. “I’m sure it will not be the last.”

You let out a shaky chuckle. “No, I’m sure it won’t.”

“Then, cease this pointless self-blame you seem to be so adamant to condemn upon yourself.” She pulls away to stare deeply into your eyes. “Acknowledge your emotions and allow your mind to rest. It does no good to dwell on the things we cannot change. I’m sure those Kings of yours would tell you the exact same.”

The corner of your lips quirks slightly. “I tell them that all the time.”

Wyno shoots you a playfully incredulous look. “Well, there you go, My Child. Afford yourself the same leniency.”

Darting your gaze to the floor, you let out a small sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Suppose?” Wyno chuckles. “My Child, I am always right.”

A playful wink is sent your way, and you cannot help the soft puff of laughter that escapes you.

“Now, go get some rest.” She motions for you to follow Mon who brushes his head against your back again in comfort. “You must be exhausted.”

A nod is all that you can muster in response as you allow yourself to finally relax. A wave of intense fatigue washes over you, body instantly slouching as you turn to face Mon. Slowly, you trudge after him down a side path leading deeper into the cave, eyes blinking tiredly as Wyno’s words echo through your mind.

She’s right. Your emotions were high, and you overreacted. You didn’t even give them a chance to calm you down before you unknowingly transported yourself away. Still, it doesn’t make what Jongho said in the moment hurt any less, even if that might not have been what he meant.

Perhaps this is exactly how Seonghwa felt all those months ago when he royally screwed up. He did look the most concerned out of all of them, a sad understanding on his features as you practically clawed at your own face in worry.

Speaking of, you’re pretty sure you’re body is still covered in blood despite Wyno cleaning your face. Only, you cannot find the energy to care right now. Not when Mon seems to lead you to the nesting area, nudging you towards what you assume is his own bed.

With the help of Mon, you’re laying down, allowing the wyrm to settle close to you for warmth as he wraps himself protectively around you. Softly, he coos to you, and without another word, you allow the gentle rumbling of his chest to lull you to sleep.

Meanwhile, Wyno heaves a tremendous sigh as she paces back and forth just inside of the cave’s mouth. Boris’ eyes track her every movement, his head resting on the ground as he looks up at her. Repeatedly, she taps her fingers over the skin of her crossed arms, golden gaze glinting in the dark semi-dark of the cave.

For twenty long minutes, Wyno allows you to rest with the babies in the nests’ deep chamber. Long enough to sort out her own thoughts before summoning those Kings of yours here.

Making her way outside of the cave with Boris in tow, Wyno looks out upon the cliff face. Briefly, her eyes dart over to the spot where Xiron had been pinned down by an arrow, your body hunched over him for protection.

She takes a deep breath.

The second Wyno clicks her teeth to alert Stella of her request, they all appear before her. Frantic looks of concern are clear on Wooyoung’s, San’s, and Mingi’s faces, and even Yeosang is having a difficult time maintaining his composure. Seonghwa’s hands twitch, while Yunho’s gaze darts every which way in search of you.

The longer all of them go without seeing you only increases their worry tenfold. Of course, it doesn’t help that they felt a shift in your internal workings of your mind just over twenty minutes ago.

“Where is she?” Hongjoong steps forward, a wild look of desperation on his features.

“Calm yourself.” Wyno commands, raising a hand to halt him in his tracks.

Hongjoong’s eyes flash, his nostrils flaring.

“You dare tell me to ‘calm myself’ when Our Queen has been missing for hours?” His voice is low, ominous as a hint of a growl coats his words.

“She has not gone missing. She’s been here with me this whole time.” Wyno replies cooly. “I thought Stella informed you that she was safe.”

A caw is heard from the raven as she flies over to perch on Wyno’s shoulder.

“She did.” Yunho responds, somewhat bluntly. His one hand is closed into a fist, your necklace clutched tightly in his grip.

“Please, Wyno,” Yeosang begins. “We’ve been worried sick.”

“I am well aware of your urgency.” Wyno’s eyes flash, noticing how both San and Wooyoung begin to pace restlessly before her.

“Then, why won’t you let us see her?” Wooyoung snaps, clear irritation on his face as he chews on his bottom lip.

“We’ve been waiting this whole time for a summoning.” Seonghwa adds, nothing but urgency in his tone. “Please, don’t keep us from her any longer.”

“I called you here because it is easier for you to come to me, than for me to go to you.” Wyno begins, keeping her voice even and breathing steady as Boris shifts beside her.

“Are you saying that you’ll deny us entry after everything?” Hongjoong’s lips pull back in a snarl. “She is Our Queen, not yours. She does not belong to you.”

“Neither does she belong to you.” Wyno retorts, quite pointedly. Already, her patience is wearing thin.

Several low, threatening growls sound from across from her.

“We aren’t afraid to tear that whole nest apart to get her back, Wyno.” Yeosang states, tilting his head pointedly as he narrows his gaze at her. “Friend, or not.”

“Each threat you speak does not make me confident in allowing you access into my home to retrieve your beloved.” Wyno stands tall, shoulders squared as she looks across at all of them. “If you would stop to listen for five seconds, you would have already been led inside by now.”

Again, Seonghwa’s fingers twitch, but they all choose to remain quiet.

“Before I grant you access, I need to know that my own words which I have spoken in reassurance to her are true.” Wyno says, eyes narrowing pointedly. “As much as I do know you, you can all be quite unpredictable when it comes to her.”

Several low warning growls reach her ears once more.

“So, she told you what happened.” It’s not quite a question that escapes Mingi’s lips, but the hesitance comes through all the same.

“I know that because of what happened, her mind was in such a fragile state, she condemned herself to fall upon the earth freely.”

A collective stillness passes over all of them as both San and Yunho inhale sharply. Immediately, tears are springing to Wooyoung’s, Seonghwa’s, and Yeosang’s eyes. Mingi’s whole body begins trembling, chest heaving with every breath.

“No…” Hongjoong falls to his knees.

“We were lucky the bond alerted us to her distress, even unknowingly.” Wyno continues. “Even now she is still riddled with a tremendous amount of self-doubt and guilt. My words can only help her so much. She needs you.”

“Then, why are we still standing outside?” Wooyoung grits his teeth, tears cutting tracks down his cheeks as he steps towards Wyno.

A warning rumble escapes Boris’ chest, and Wooyoung scowls, freezing in place.

“Do you want to know what her biggest fear out of all of this was?” Golden eyes observe them carefully, watching every subtle twitch of their brows.

“Wyno-“

A sharp look from the dragon stops Mingi’s words right in their tracks.

“She was terrified of you.”

Their hearts drop, and each male stills in their spot. Not even their chests move as they forget how to breathe, more tears falling freely down each of their faces.

“She was terrified of what you might do to her in retribution for harming Jongho.” Wyno infers. “She believed, despite it all, that you would hate her. That you would despise her, and curse her very existence for what she’s done.”

This time, it’s Seonghwa who falls to his knees. His hands brace himself on the ground, sobs wracking his entire body as he attempts to catch his breath. All he can think of is how badly he’s failed you yet again.

Yunho places a hand onto Yeosang’s shoulder, noticing how the younger male has gone eerily quiet. Were it not for the fact that Yunho can still hear Yeosang’s heart thundering inside of the shorter male’s chest, he would have thought that the younger had died as soon as those words had left Wyno’s lips.

Immediately, San wraps Wooyoung in his embrace, letting the younger male sob violently into his neck. Both of them begin shaking uncontrollably, clinging to each other for dear life.

Behind him, Hongjoong can hear Mingi cursing. Knowing the younger male, he’s probably pacing and ripping at his hair as tears fall freely from his eyes. However, all Hongjoong can do at the moment is stare forward, nothing but the crushing weight of devastation suffocating his heart and flooding his entire being with a numbness unlike ever before.

“But she didn’t harm him.” San’s voice trembles, and he feels Wooyoung squeeze him tighter.

“It wasn’t her fault.” Yeosang states, voice sounding much calmer than he is right now.

“We would never-“ Seonghwa chokes on a sob, “could never blame her for this.”

“There is next to nothing in this world, or in all of the realms that could make us hate her.” Yunho keeps his words low, even. “Let alone blame her.”

A firm nod from Wyno is all they receive in response.

“How could she ever think we could hate her?” Wooyoung’s breath stutters with his wails, that complete feeling of devastation choking him out just as it does with the others.

“I do not think she had been thinking clearly, given the events that had occurred throughout the night.” Wyno says. “You seven should be all too familiar with what the weight of crushing guilt can do to your reason. All rational thought ceases to exist.”

A hushed understanding passes over all of them as they nod solemnly.

“Please, Wyno,” Hongjoong finally lifts his gaze. “Please, take us to her.”

Never before has Wyno seen the man before her look so utterly broken. Yet, she knows. She just knows that this is all just fallout from that reckless and selfish demon who has haunted you since the eight of them all fell in love with you. Since they chose you to be their Queen.

Softly, Wyno nods her head.

“I will take you to her.” She voices gently. “However,” they all tense, “you need to all realize why I had to go about it this way.”

“Do you truly believe that we are capable of ever hurting her?” Mingi’s crestfallen expression says it all.

“No.” Wyno shakes her head lightly. “I do not.”

“Then, why-“

San’s inquiry gets cut off by the eldest’s shaky voice.

“You did this for her.”

Wyno’s golden gaze flits between all several of the males now turned towards her. Her expression says it all.

“Come.” She turns, guiding Boris back into the cave with her. “She’s currently sleeping.”

The walk through the cave is silent, save for the few sniffles that Wyno can hear coming from some of the males behind her. Luckily, they seem to manage to compose themselves just as they reach the nesting area.

Frowns tug at their features as they don’t immediately see you.

“Where…?” Hongjoong’s brow furrows, knowing that he and his brothers can just make out the faintest hints of your scent mixed in with the rest.

“There.” Wyno motions off to the side with her head.

Shifting their gazes to where Wyno has guided them to, they see both Yerra and Xiron curled up with each other. A wing from each dragon is spread out between them, as if covering something hidden beneath.

Slowly, the two babies retract their wings as they get closer, and the sight that greets them would normally be adorable given any other circumstance.

There you rest, curled up with your arms around Mon as you sleep soundly. The babies surround you on either side, keeping you warm as your jacket seems to have fallen off of your shoulders. Mon is more than happy to be held in your arms, and he continues to let out gentle coos as you sleep, reassuring you that they’re all here to protect you.

Unfortunately, it seems as if the slight shifting around you has woken you up.

Groggily, you blink around at your surroundings, your head lifting as you attempt to gather your bearings for the moment. With the help of Mon, you manage to sit, rubbing at your eyes all the while as he slithers around your back. The albino wyrm curls around you protectively as you hear several sharp inhales come from in front of you.

You freeze, but what you fail to see is how all of them take a hesitant step towards you.

A soft call of your name has you slowly lowering your hands, somewhat cautiously. You blink to clear your vision, and the instant you see them all standing in front of you, tears spring to your eyes once more.

Nothing but concern is on each of their features as they look at you, their hearts squeezing painfully as they hear your own begin to thunder inside of your chest.

Carefully, San takes a step forward, his hand raising to reach out to you. “Baby-“

“I’m sorry.” Your lower lip trembles, the first of your tears spilling onto your cheeks. Your voice is raw, all of the events finally catching up to you as you attempt to clear your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut, whole body beginning to shake. “I’m sorry.”

Arms wrap around you instantly, and you jump as you feel yourself being pulled into someone’s chest. Unknowingly, your one hand fists his shirt for dear life.

“Shh, My Divine.” Seonghwa soothes you, rocking you gently in his embrace as his hand strokes over the back of your head. “It’s okay.”

You sob harder, more apologies falling from your lips.

“It’s not your fault, Dearest.” Yeosang keeps his voice low so as not to startle you.

“We’re not mad at you.” Mingi is the next to speak. “We could never be mad at you for this.”

“Please, My Love, do not think that we are.” Hongjoong kneels beside you, reaching out to tenderly caress your back.

“If anything, we thought we were going to lose you.” Yunho breathes, a hint of fear clinging to the edges of his words.

Wooyoung collapses in front of you, grasping your hands in his desperately. “Please don’t run from us like that again. We would never forgive ourselves if something happened to you.”

“We could never hate you, Starlight.” Mingi whispers, stepping in closer.

“Please don’t be afraid of us.” San pleads, swallowing somewhat thickly. “We could never, never hurt you, Baby.”

With each male that speaks, you manage to calm down more and more. Apologies no longer fall from your lips, and your breathing is starting to even out. It seems as if you’re able to finally begin thinking clearly with all of them surrounding you like this.

Softly, you begin to nod your head and a collective sigh of relief if heard from all of them.

Wooyoung squeezes your hands, smiling at you faintly. “Please, don’t scare us like that again.”

“We were in a frenzy trying to find you until Stella showed up.” Mingi admits, running his hand through his hair which stands on end in every direction.

“Let’s get you home, My Love.” Hongjoong stands, helping you to your feet along with Seonghwa.

A catch in your breath as you are swooped up into the eldest’s arms.

“You should get some rest, My Divine.” He pulls you tighter against his chest, holding onto you securely as if you might disappear again at a moment’s notice.

All you can offer them is a small nod in response before you’re all turning to face Wyno once more.

“Thank you for watching over her.” Yunho tilts his head in acknowledgement towards the alpha of the dragons, clutching your necklace a little firmer in his hand.

“Always.” Wyno hums, a small upturn to her lips as she watches you rest in Seonghwa’s arms. It looks as if you’ve finally calmed down, for your head leans against his shoulder, your breathing evening out steadily. “I am more than happy to provide for one of our own.”

Exhaustion tugs at the edges of your consciousness, but you force yourself to stay awake. Just enough so that you can turn your head towards Wyno.

Softly, you incline your head in her direction, blinking at her gently as you mouth your gratitude. She mirrors your movements, a tender smile pulling at her features in understanding.

“Go home, My Child,” her voice is low, nothing but a sweet caress to your ears. “Allow yourself to rest.”

A small nod is all she receives in response before the eight of you are disappearing from sight.

The front foyer is quick to greet you after that. It appears to have been cleaned, everything back in its regular place, and no Jongho in sight.

Seonghwa goes to take a step towards your room before your voice is halting him right in his tracks.

“Please,” the call is weak, but they all still manage to hear, “I need to see him."

An understanding passes over all of them, and immediately, Seonghwa is stepping towards the youngest’s room with the others surrounding you both. Hongjoong is quick to push open the door, guiding the way inside as you all follow behind. Once beside Jongho’s bed, Seonghwa softly sits you on top of the covers.

Swallowing thickly, you take in the sight of a still unconscious Jongho. He looks so peaceful, sleeping soundly beneath the comfort of his sheets. His chest rises and falls evenly, and he doesn’t appear to be in any pain, but you still cannot prevent the way your heart twists in guilt seeing him like this.

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking tenderly against his skin.

“He’ll be okay, Dearest.” Yeosang reassures you, moving to sit beside you on the bed.

“He just needs some rest,” Wooyoung affirms, a slight nod to his head.

“Just like you do, My Love.” Hongjoong places a comforting hand onto your shoulder.

“Are you injured?” Mingi finally voices his concerns, noting how all of his brothers turn to observe you carefully now.

You shake your head, voice rough as you speak, “Wyno healed me.”

“We’re sorry we couldn’t be the ones to take care of you this time.” Seonghwa averts his eyes in shame, and you notice how the others do as well.

Again, you shake your head. “That’s not on you. That’s on me.”

“Petal,” Yunho’s worried voice reaches your ears.

“It seems all we ever do is apologize to each other,” you say, somewhat lowly.

“It’s hard not to feel remorse when it concerns the one you love.” Hongjoong squeezes your shoulder gently, and you’re briefly reminded of that talk you had with him in the garden all those months ago. You place your hand atop his. “Come. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You look up at him, protests forming on your lips.

“You’ve had a long night, Dearest.” Yeosang reasons, helping you back to your feet. “You need to rest.”

“Besides, he’ll probably be all better by the time you wake up.” San assures you, a light smile pulling at his features.

A small weight is felt settling onto the skin of your upper chest, and you turn your head to see Yunho securing your necklace behind you.

“Thought you might want this back.” His voice rumbles out lowly, a faint upturn of his lips as he sees your fingers brush over the jewel hanging over your skin once more.

“Come on, Angel.” Wooyoung begins to lead you out of the room with Seonghwa. “We can talk about everything later. For now, let your mind rest. We promise we’ll take good care of you.”

You nod, allowing the comfort of Your Kings to surround you once more as you fully embrace the light of the morning sun shining through the windows. The night might have been dark, but you know. You just know that everything will be alright with them by your side.

Jongho will be fine.

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oomfvia · 11 months ago

Text

come destroy my fragility

pairing: astarion/gender-neutral paladin tav/reader + the emperor/gender-neutral paladin tav/reader (kinda)

spoilers for act 3 + vampire ascendant astarion

sfw | established relationship | angst | hurt no comfort

this fic is not very nice towards both ascendant astarion and the emperor for the sake of storytelling. don't take it personally please!

also posted on ao3

likes/comments/reblogs always appreciated!

Turning your head, instead of The Emperor, Astarion sits beside you. Immediately, your body stiffens. But then, slowly, it releases its tension when he smiles at you. You recognise it as a smile of fondness — affection, rather than self-absorbed satisfaction. It was the Astarion you had woken up to just this morning, before everything was reduced to a putrid red. Your Astarion.

You allow your lover to become the Vampire Ascendant, and are forced to watch him grow delirious with a rush of newfound power. That same night, you find yourself in the Astral Plane in your dreams. You already miss him dearly.

word count: 3,490

You love Astarion, unwaveringly so. Your romance may not have had the best start, but it only made the fall that much more meaningful. Sharing the same tent, you wake up with your arms wrapped protectively around him every morning. Every evening, the two of you were now accustomed to reading quietly side-by-side, shoulders pressed together. You cherish the mundane routine of it all. Loving Astarion comes as naturally to you as breathing.

It’s in Cazador’s palace that you learn of the fact that you love Astarion so much, you would do just about anything for him. Even the most repugnant things.

You grimace in sheer, utter pain as your tadpole connects with Astarion’s. Both of your minds become one, sharing memories of runes marring pale skin in multiple flashes. For the first time, Astarion sees the Infernal poem detailing the conditions of Mephistopheles’ profane pact etched across his bare back.

A hint of a smile appears on the spawn’s face, and it brings a shiver of terror down your spine. The illithid connection is severed, releasing the two minds. It leaves your stream of consciousness to yourself, filled with a resounding thought: What in the Nine Hells have I done?

You vividly remember how the rogue had described the process of attaining his scars. Cazador had carved them into his skin painstakingly slowly, not missing even a single detail. In comparison, Astarion slices into his defeated master’s skin with urgency. Rather than savouring every scream, he only smiles, as if refusing to acknowledge them at all.

Even in a moment like this, Cazador calls Astarion a child. A wretched one, sure, but a child nonetheless. It causes you to forget the sting of guilt you feel for allowing Astarion to deliver such excruciating pain in front of your eyes, if only for a moment. You simply watch in silence as Astarion grabs the quarterstaff controlling the ritual, raising it above his head. It sinks into the centre of the floor, covering it in Infernal script that glows red.

“Ecce dominus!”

Leon, Aurelia, Violet, Petras, Dalyria, Yousen — they were the closest thing to family for Astarion. You remember how he had called them his siblings, and how it gave you a sense of relief. Even if said family was attained through cruel, corrupted means, it was a small bit of consolation that Astarion had not been truly alone all of those years. Now, they were all being reduced to a mere collective sacrifice. An obscene offering in exchange for the promise of power.

And yet, you cannot find it in yourself to lift even a single finger.

“Nunc volo potestatem quam pollicitus es mihi…”

You adore Astarion’s voice, in all of its velvety and rich tones. However, now that it was echoing loudly in the chamber, it only inspires feelings of dread, overriding any instinctual passion. Every single sacrificial spawn, including Cazador Szarr, bursts into thick puddles of blood. Astarion lowers his arms, breathing heavily as the ritual’s light slowly dims.

“I…I can’t feel it. That ache in my stomach, that hunger — it’s gone.”

Astarion smiles, unmistakably drunk on his newfound power.

“I’m free. I’m finally free! Oh, it feels delicious .”

You watch Astarion’s eyes gleam uncomfortably, opting to look downwards to your hands. Since when did your fingers start trembling? Since when were your hairs standing on end? You look back up at the newly emerged Vampire Ascendant, bitter regret coursing through your veins.

What remains of Astarion’s family is only a sickening shade of red, pooling all over the floor. You can only stare wide-eyed at the gorey scene, a wave of nausea threatening to rise in your throat. Suddenly, it’s also coupled with a heavy spasm within your chest. What was this feeling of devastating loss? Clutching at your chest, you shudder as your eyes sweep the room, only to notice that you’re the sole person undergoing such physical pain.

The pain then manifests itself into an armoured figure, its hands resting on its greatsword’s pommel. You swallow thickly, as the pain slowly subsides. While the pain was starting to leave, the ominous presence in front of you induces something else: fear. Metal shifts against metal as the armoured figure starts to speak in a gravelly timbre.

“You have broken your oath, paladin.”

The days of travel since the illithid abduction had been trying. Despite everything, you have always tried to be true to yourself. To your oath. Despite your best efforts to be righteous above all else, it all led up to this. Vows of higher morality, honour, and duty that had sworn years before were being turned to mere specks of dust. For a moment, you wonder if you were face-to-face with an executioner, who would deliver your lifeless body back to your deity. Instead, the armoured knight delivers nothing but a promise:

“At the close of day, I will be waiting for you.”

Astarion approaches you with heightened zeal, bringing you back to the harshness of reality. The consequences of recent events sink in, and you might even mourn the loss of that sinister knight’s presence. The newly crowned Vampire Ascendant speaks, and you attempt to listen. It’s no good — your mind is far too overwhelmed, far too dazed to digest every word. Astarion’s words only register as fragmented phrases about greatness, servants, and obedience. Even as your blade cuts through the Gur people, you sense yourself being swallowed up by numbness.

Outside of the dungeon, the rest of the journey back to camp is a muddled, disjointed blur. Midway, you turn to your left to see Gale, whose expression can only be described as crushing disappointment. On your right, you see Karlach. When the both of you meet eyes, the tiefling frowns, averting her gaze. You walk in front of their party as always, but your joints seemingly move for you automatically rather than being willed to. It’s only when you catch a whiff of the salty air of the harbour that the mindless trance you were under breaks. You were already back at camp.

You don’t want to speak with any of your companions. You don’t have it in you to face any of them — not even your lover. Instead, your slow, aimless footsteps find their way to the mysterious knight, tucked in a corner of the campsite.

Speaking with the Oathbreaker Knight is as intimidating as the first time. You listen to his words with a heavy heart, being reminded of what you had sworn. What you’ve now betrayed. With a slow turn of his head, the knight faces you with an almost scorching gaze.

“Tell me — why did you abandon your oath?”

“Out of…love.”

It’s a plain and simple phrase, and yet it’s uttered at a volume barely louder than a whisper. Your reasoning now sounded so silly and so immature to your own ears. The result of your misguided love makes it all seem so meaningless.

“An understandable sacrifice,” the Oathbreaker responds, contrary to how you were internally admonishing yourself for said sacrifice. Was it understandable to be so witless? So frustratingly naïve?

The Oathbreaker Knight continues to detail the greater implications of your actions, or your lack thereof. Halfway through, he mentions something about a new power slumbering within you, and it’s the exact moment when his words start to fall on deaf ears. The way things are, all you know is that you don’t want to hear any more of “power” and “strength” for the rest of the night.

“What’s past is past. We are here to discuss your future.”

“I don’t want any part of this. Let me remain pure. Please,” you answer with an almost desperate sense of haste, now afraid of what a future of unknown power could hold. Parting with a couple hundred gold coins is nothing in comparison.

Pacing as far away from the Oathbreaker as possible, you feel deeply on edge. The anxiety of it all is unbearable, and your instincts naturally seek out a source of comfort. Before you know it, your feet lead you to Astarion. Except this time, when looking into his eyes, you find someone else. Someone so incredibly similar, yet so incredibly foreign.

“I can’t believe you let me kill all those people…A pleasant surprise.”

You answer through gritted teeth. “I wanted what was best for you.”

“You sweet, sweet thing. I want what’s best for you too, of course. And one wicked turn deserves another.”

No, you don’t. Stop. Where is Astarion? Where is he?

“So, tell me what you desire. What can I do for my dearest pet?”

There was no need for any further words, your body reacting faster than your mouth ever could. You turn your heel, refusing to end the conversation properly. As you practically run back to your side of camp, your chest heaves and your breath escapes in shallow huffs. No, no, no, no, no. Whoever this is, he’s abhorrent. I hate this. I hate it all. You feel absolutely sick to your stomach, because you didn’t leave the conversation out of hatred for Astarion. You had left out of fear that you would be swayed by whatever he could’ve said next.

You know, in the back of your mind, that you have nobody to blame except yourself.

Lying on your bedroll, you shake off your feelings of disgust and self-hatred. You have an elder brain to deal with, and it wasn’t going to wait for you to figure out your relationship, of all things. All you want for the rest of the night is a restful, peaceful slumber. A sleep so deep and tranquil that none of your doubts and regrets can infiltrate your thoughts.

Of course, even then, you’re asking for too much. Even in your dreams, your loathsome love cannot seem to leave you alone. You find yourself among the stars, under a lilac sky. Turning your head, instead of The Emperor, Astarion sits beside you. Immediately, your body stiffens. But then, slowly, it releases its tension when he smiles at you. You recognise it as a smile of fondness — affection, rather than self-absorbed satisfaction. It was the Astarion you had woken up to just this morning, before everything was reduced to a putrid red. Your Astarion.

The last time you found yourself in the Astral Plane, you were faced with The Emperor, along with a choice that was all too easy. No matter the reward, you weren’t going to consume an astral-touched tadpole. The risk of it consuming you in return was far too likely, and you’d sooner fall on your longsword than have it take you. You had resolved yourself to speak with the mind flayer, sternly reaffirming that you had no intention of embracing any illithid potential in the slightest.

At the exact moment your eyes meet Astarion’s, all of those preconceived notions dissolve in an instant. You scoff in disbelief, blinking rapidly. Despite your expectations of him disappearing after every blink, his figure remains.

“Astarion,” you call out through the lump emerging in your throat.

“What has made you so sullen, my dear?”

What an unbearably loaded question, you think to yourself. Was it the overall gloom of Cazador’s dungeon? Was it those pitiful fools who had waltzed right into their deaths, who had loved a vampire spawn in a way that you understood far too well? Was it the way that Astarion looked at you after his ascension, devoid of any of the respect and trust that you had shared throughout your journey? The answer is a combination of everything.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? What matters now is that Astarion was here with you.

“I love you so much it hurts, Astarion. But now that I've doomed you, I’m…I’m so fucking scared.”

Except you know that this is too good to be true.

“I love you too. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m with you, aren’t I?” Astarion says, with a tilt of his head. It’s so charming, so inviting, so comforting.

Astarion said many sweet things, but he's never proclaimed his love for you outright in this way. He was always too afraid, and knowing that, you never demanded it from him. So why was he saying this now? Something feels wrong, terribly so.

“I…I missed you,” you respond with a hesitant voice.

Something about this feels wrong to the point of perversion. Apprehension courses through your body, and you look into those familiar scarlet eyes, searching for an answer as to why. He stares at you in a way that pierces through your soul, boring into your flesh.

“But darling,” Astarion says, a warm smile on his lips. “I’ve never left.”

And then, it clicks.

Lies. Lies, lies, lies, LIESLIESLIESLIES —

You clench your fists, squeezing your fingers together momentarily. Gradually, your dull, broken sadness paves the way for unbridled anger. Heat rises in your stomach, reaching up to your chest. With a scowl, you raise your hand, slapping your palm against the man’s cheek.

“Who do you think you are, trying to fool me again? You’re deplorable.”

You watch with an icy glare as Astarion’s figure seamlessly transforms. Pale skin is dyed back into a piercing purple. Bulging veins emerge across his skin. The lower half of his face is covered with appendages. All of it reveals a hideous aberration.

“I thought you would have appreciated that form over this one. It seems that I was mistaken.”

“...You aren’t.”

Truthfully, as much as you are angry at The Emperor, you’re also angry with yourself. During those few initial seconds, you had allowed yourself to hope. Even if it was only a dream, you wanted to believe so badly that it was the Astarion you had helped to erase at the Black Mass. Even if it was for only a couple of hours, you wanted to see the Astarion who you’ll never get back.

The mind flayer hums in acknowledgment, as if he already knows. “We share the same mind. It is only natural that I know who you yearn for, more than anyone else.”

You take in a deep inhale, exhaling heavily with an open mouth. It was in the subtleties during times like this that you found yourself unable to fully trust him, regardless of his protection. Ultimately, The Emperor made you feel as if you were nothing but a mere pawn. Briefly, you recall Astarion as the newly rebirthed Vampire Ascendant. Suddenly, it all felt so awfully ironic. During that short conversation at camp, he, too, made you feel the same way.

“You’re repulsive,” you spit out. “What if I hadn’t noticed?”

“Then it would prove my point even further — that your current form comes with limitations.”

The realisation that dawns upon you only serves to fuel your disdain further. You were two individuals burdening the same brain. The Emperor knows everything that’s happened on this miserable day, and now he is using it against you. In your most fragile, most desperate moment, he was going to give you another sermon about abandoning your feeble form.

“Fuck. You.”

With another quick flourish, you’re met with Astarion again. It disturbs you how easily your heart can shift to feelings of familiarity and adoration, simply with a small reminder of the partner Astarion used to be.

“Now, now, darling. That’s very rude of you, don’t you think?”

The corners of the vampire’s lips curl upwards sweetly, the smile on his face just barely narrowing his eyes. You hate to admit it to yourself, but this form softens your heart, no matter how aware you are that it’s just a disguise.

Astarion takes your hand in his, tilting his head lovingly in a way that registers as equally seductive and sickening. He leans in towards you, soft breath brushing against your ear.

“You failed in preventing the corruption of your lover, despite your every intention to do so. Not only that, but you failed in protecting your oath. That moment of weakness leaves me with no choice but to presume that your present self is far from sufficient to deal with the elder brain.”

Cold and calculating words escape Astarion’s lips, making them sound like the most beautifully crafted prose. It’s so fucking unfair.

You wish you had your longsword at your side. If you could, you would unsheathe it from its scabbard, drenching the blasted illithid’s body in its own blood. But more than that, you wish you could rewind time back to when you were at Cazador’s palace, with Astarion’s dagger against Cazador’s throat. You want nothing more than to go back to when you could have cried out, ran forward, caused a fuss — anything to stop the Rite of Profane Ascension from completion.

In less than even a second, the Emperor returns to his illithid form, his appendages swaying as he speaks. With a flick of his wrist, he unfurls his fingers and presents you with an astral-touched tadpole. The same one you had rejected before. And yet, this one was much harder to refuse. You stare at the tadpole's faint, ephemeral glow.

What The Emperor says isn’t exactly wrong, and it frustrates you to no end. He was simply telling you what you had been trying to avoid telling yourself the entire day. What has happened has shaken you to your core, and you feel the seeds of doubt settling in the pit of your stomach. Astarion’s ascension aside, did you have the strength to surpass this setback and vanquish the Absolute? Could you assure that no cruel fate like that would befall upon your other companions?

You think of the worst. You imagine Wyll being consumed by his pact with Mizora. You imagine Lae’zel watching helplessly as Orpheus perishes, fulfilling Vlaakith’s wishes. You imagine Gale losing himself out of blind devotion to his goddess. They’re all things that you would never wish on your dear friends. Not after all that’s happened.

With a heavy, audible sigh, you let your shoulders run slack in resignation. You recognise yourself as an incompetent fool that has condemned your lover to a fate of single-minded lusts for power, and now you are going to pay the price.

“...Fine, you win. Have it your way.”

It takes only a moment for the tadpole to welcome itself into your body through just the smallest opening of your mind. You writhe and twist in anguish as you feel its essence coursing flooding into you. Every single bone in your body screams as your flesh contorts inhumanly and your veins turn a horrid black. Soon after, it settles. It’s so unnatural how natural it feels, once the wretched tadpole settles into your body.

“Are you happy now?” You ask, glancing up at The Emperor accusatorily.

“You are…exquisite.”

You don’t want to hear those words from that monster. You want to hear those words from him . If you still loved him ardently after his transformation, would it be such a stretch to hope that he would love you after yours? There must be some remnants of the way he had loved you before somewhere deep inside that unbeating heart. Tucked away secretively, so that it’ll never be fully erased. It’s somewhere, or so you tell yourself.

The Emperor must have picked up on your wishful thinking because in the next moment, you're once again eye-to-eye with your vampiric lover’s image. You know it’s all sheer delusion. A product of nothing more than your deepest regrets. The coldness of his hand against your cheek is heart-wrenchingly familiar, making you flinch slightly before your skin starts to adjust. When it leans in closer, you find yourself habitually meeting it in the middle.

When your lips meet, the illusion of Astarion gently holds your trembling arm, slowly tracing downwards until its hand rests on top of yours. It’s only when you feel a wet drop roll down your cheek that you realise you’ve started to cry. Shortly after, your lips part, leaving you with a devastating loneliness. You recognise it as the loneliness you’ve left buried under adamant denial, resurfacing after a single kiss.

“I love you, Astarion,” you whisper in a choked sob, trying but failing to convince yourself. Your declaration of love is out of a pathetic and pitiful need to reassure yourself, rather than spontaneous passion.

Memories of the Astarion you miss flit back into your mind. You had held him when he was at his most unsure of himself, lost about his place in the world. He had been the one to love you unconditionally, when you had thought you were nothing without your oath. Gazing into the imitation’s eyes makes it painfully obvious that you’re the only one still carrying such fervent affections.

“...I’m sorry,” the illusion whispers back. You don’t know if you have it in you to forgive it. You don’t know if you have it in you to forgive yourself.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #oomfvia.txt #oomfvia:\bedtimestories

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