#OR he is aware and is too much of a coward to follow through with it

[ofswordsandpens]

imagine writing this. imagine writing percy increasingly losing himself to his anger and his resentment, sympathizing with Luke, spiraling, being immensely powerful, burning away at his mortality, and not knowing how to deal with any of it. Desperate for help and the one time he breaks down enough to try and get it (Jason) his worst thoughts and perceptions of himself are inadvertently affirmed. He never talks about it to Annabeth. He never talks about it to his mom. Oh but everyone is aware of it. Aware of his anger. Afraid of his anger. Concerned for him and by him. They give each other looks, worried, because they recognize what a danger he could be — to himself, to others, to the gods. But no one says anything, at least not to Percy. No one helps him. No one intervenes. They don't know how to, it seems. (Or maybe they're afraid to). And so they all pretend everything is fine. Percy pretends, bottling it all up inside until the pressure gets too great and that anger boils over and he loses it all over again. He's so desperate for normalcy that he'll take anything, believes in all of the sweet, sugar-spun tales of New Rome and looks away from the rotting underside. He lets himself believe that once he's there the gods will have to leave him alone, because he's done with it all, he's retired (and the gods always keep their promises don't they?).

Imagine writing what is arguably the well-plotted, compelling, and tragic beginnings of a fallen hero arc for percy and none of it being intentional.

RR's penchant for Percy to be explosively angry and scarily powerful, alongside characterizing him as jaded and resentful and desperate, mixed with his refusal to write any in-depth emotional resolution to any time Percy snaps has created an enthralling narrative of a hero just about to fall from grace. and it's all seemingly an accident.

Oh, and another, amazing, unintentional coincidence? if you're taking RR's word that Percy is still 17, that's also the age Luke was when he failed his quest, marking the beginning of his fall as a hero. Like. The narrative parallels are all there. And without any meaning for them to be.

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2

He has no right to be here.

He knows that.

He does.

Eddie watches as people pile into the church, all of them dressed to the nines. It's a Harrington affair through and through, and the sight of all these people that he knows Steve hates makes him feel sicker than he already is.

If he wasn't on the edge of crying he would have laughed at himself, like he had any right to judge anyone here. He's the one who dumped Steve. Perfect, wonderful, lovely Steve who just needed a few more years. He just needed to make sure the kids were safe until they graduated. But Eddie couldn't do it. He needed to leave, and Steve needed to stay.

So he ended it. Just like that. He ended it.

He hasn't seen him for three years. By all appearances, it was a good choice, the best thing he could have done for himself. Because against all fucking odds Eddie Munson ends up as a success. He's a star, a famous musician discovered in a shitty little bar. He somehow managed to actually live the dream he used to fantasize about.

He lives it up. He parties, he drinks, he fucks, he spends his early twenties being young and dumb like he always wanted.

And it's horrible. It's so horrible that it becomes hilarious to him. Because he knows why it's so bad. Of course he knows. But it's better this way, really. Because Steve deserved better than him anyway. He deserved someone he didn't run away, full of flimsy excuses of wanting to be out of the shitty town that made him. When the truth was he was scared. He was terrified about how much he loved him. Because what was he going to do when the day came when Steve realized he could do better?

Eddie wouldn't have been able to surivie it. So he left instead. Like the coward he was. He left so he could be miserable and famous but at least Steve could finally find someone who deserved him.

So it really was all for the best. That's what he tells himself, because if he doesn't he'd go insane wondering about what could have been. He has himself convinced that he made the right choice. Maybe not for himself, but at least for Steve.

He doesn't realize how bullshit all of that was until Dustin lets it slip. They're doing the normal routine. Dustin visits, Eddie spoils the shit out of him, and on the last day he asks about Steve. He always tries to keep it casual. Tries to never let his desperation to know what's happening shine through. But it always does, bad enough that Dustin can't help the pity in his eyes when he tells him.

Steve's getting married.

Eddie wasn't aware just how much words could hurt him until that moment. He'd been called every bad name under the sun, a queer, a freak, a fag, you name it and it's been said. But this is the first time someone else's words make him feel like he's dying.

He wasn't invited to the wedding. Why would he be? But he still found it. Because he's a glutton for self-punishment. He hadn't seen Steve for three fucking years, and he chooses to wait till his wedding day?

But it's too late for regret, he's already here. His eyes keep scanning the room, just waiting for him to show up. He probably looks like a creep, dressed in all black and fucking sunglasses, sitting right by the door. He's basically in a fucking disguise, mostly to stop Robin from finding him and kicking his ass.

Speaking of, his eyes widen at the sight of her. She's slipping out of a door to the side, quickly wiping at her eyes before joining the crowd of people. His eyes drift back to the door.

Eddie's on his feet before he knows what he's doing. It's stupid, maybe the stupidest thing he's ever done, but where Robin is, Steve is sure to follow.

And he's right. It leads to a small dressing room. And there he is. Just like that Eddie's in front of the only man he'll ever love. Or at least, behind him. They were alone, and Steve hadn't even noticed him yet, too busy adjusting his hair in the mirror.

He still has time to leave. Besides, he didn't come here to ruin everything. He didn't, really.

But he doesn't turn around. Instead, Eddie locks the door behind him. He takes off his stupid sunglasses and clears his throat to speak, but is immediately rendered speechless when Steve turns to look at him.

He's just as gorgeous as he remembered.

His eyes widened at the sight of him, mouth opening and closing like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Why would he? Eddie never reached out. He ignored the times that Steve did, always too ashamed of himself to face his own mistakes.

Eddie always expected Steve to lash out when he saw him, if he saw him. Lord knows he deserved it. But he doesn't. He just looks...sad. And those basset hound eyes are almost enough to bring Eddie to tears himself.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, voice quiet.

Eddie hadn't actually prepared anything to say. His plan was to watch the love of his life marry someone else than drink himself into a stupor at his hotel. He...he hadn't expected to end up here. But there are a million things he wants to say to him.

I'm here to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a coward. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough and I made it your problem. I haven't stopped thinking about you. Ever. There hasn't been a day that goes by when I don't regret leaving. And I thought, maybe, just maybe if I saw you move on with my own eyes I could let you go.

But none of that is what comes out of his mouth.

"Run away with me."

If Steve didn't look shocked to see him before he sure did now, "W-What?"

"Run away with me," He repeats. Because it's what he wants. It's what he needs. It's been three years of hell without him and Eddie can't do it anymore. He can't.

He hates that he's the cause of the tears springing up in Steve's eyes, but he can't take it back. He won't.

Steve looks away, eyes trained on the floor, "You can't do this to me Eddie. You can't."

But he is.

Eddie's made his choice. He was a fool to think he was capable of coming here without trying to steal him away. Of course this is where he'd end up. And he'll say anything to get him back. He doesn't care that he's too late. He doesn't care that this whole thing makes him a bigger piece of shit than he already was.

He'll be underhanded, he'll be dirty, he'll do anything to get Steve to leave with him, he doesn't fucking care. Because Steve Harrington is not going to get married today.

He waltzes right up to him. He grabs his chin and forces him to meet his eyes. He probably looks crazy, he feels crazy, "You don't love her like you love me."

He's never met her. He doesn't need to. The way Steve freezes up is all he needs to know that he's right.

He doesn't deny it, but he deflects, "Why are you doing this? You left me. Did you forget that part? I didn't end it. You did! A-And now what? We're just going to ride off into the sunset together? Like you weren't the one to just cut me out of your life-"

"Yes," Eddie interrupts. He feels calm, eerily so as he speaks, "We're riding off into the sunset together. Even though I don't deserve it. I never deserved you. And I was so fucking scared of when you would realize that. I let it eat away at me. So I left. Before you could do it to me. And I was wrong."

"Stop," Steve tries to step back, but Eddie won't let him. He wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close.

He can't stop talking, even if he wanted to, "I was so wrong Steve. And I've been miserable ever since. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I'll never stop thinking about you. Even if you tell me to go to hell and get hitched I'll just wait for a divorce. Because you are the only one for me. And it took me too long to say that out loud. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Stevie."

Steve weakly tried to push him away, but his heart wasn't in it, "Please stop."

But he can't, "I love you."

Steve's eyes are closed, a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay, but his voice comes out strong, "Eddie, I-I can't do this again. I can't. If you left me again I...I just can't."

Eddie can't help but wipe a few of the tears away for him, "Angel, look at me."

He waits for Steve to open his eyes. He looks so fucking beautiful that it hurts, especially since this may really be the last time he sees him again.

But he has one more trick up his sleeve, "Tell me you're not mine and I'll leave."

"W-what?"

"Tell me you're not mine. Say the words out loud and I'll let you go."

Steve stares at him. He's mad, beyond pissed that Eddie has the audacity to throw that in his face, but he's desperate. It was the last thing he said to him, murmured through the driver's side window of the van, seconds before he drove away.

I'm still yours, even if you don't want me anymore.

Eddie had cried the entire ride there after hearing that. And then a few days after for good measure. And here he is, completely ruthless at what he's willing to pull out, "You're mine Steve. You know you're mine."

It's such a fucked up thing to say, but it's true. But it's not the whole truth, "And I'm yours. I've always been yours. Tell me that's not true and I'll leave."

But Steve can't. He can't do it, just like Eddie had known he wouldn't. But what he hadn't expected was for him to surge up and kiss him.

It feels like he fell in love all over again, just from one simple kiss. Because it felt like magic was real and it decided to take on the form of Steve Harrington's lips. It was everything he had missed. Everything he had dreamed about. Eddie tangled a hand into his hair, helpless to do anything but kiss him back, harder and deeper. He wanted to be burned into Steve's memory for all eternity. He wanted him to always remember the moment that they came back to each other.

Because that's what this is. Eddie's certain, Steve was his, and he would never let him go again.

They only stop when there is a knock at the door, a muffled question asked that they can't hear over the sounds of their own breathing. It's enough to have them pulling away from each other, but they ignore it nonetheless.

Steve searches his face, one last test. Eddie can only guess how he looks right now, probably just as desperate and terribly hopeful as he felt. Whatever he's looking for, he finds it eventually.

Steve sighs, glancing toward the back of the room, "There's a window we can probably fit through. Because I'm sure as hell not going out there."

Now it's Eddie's turn to cry. Despite all of his confidence, the certainty that they were supposed to be together, he hadn't really expected it to work. But here they were, giggling with each other as they scurried out of a first-floor window, making a run for Eddie's car.

Eddie can't help but kiss him again before they get in, muttering against his mouth, "I love you so fucking much Stevie. I'm not going to fuck this up again. You won't regret it, I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

Steve grinned into the kiss, "You better."

There was still so much to talk about. Too much. And they'll fight and they'll scream and everything will get worse before it gets better. And Eddie's so fucking grateful to get the chance.

And for the first time in three years, he feels alive again.

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (a dreamling drabble)

(a 1989 comics AU where Dream does not go meet Hob despite being free)

Dream stares at the sleeping form of Hob Gadling and feels guilty.

He hadn’t gone to their centennial meeting. Despite having escaped Burgess’ cage and having recovered his tools, Dream has not met Hob at their appointed date at the White Horse.

He knows Hob waited for him. Waited until the day had gone and turned to night, after the clock had struck midnight and announced their date over. Dream knows this because he had stood, watching, for as long as the man waited inside the White Horse Inn.

He is not proud of this.

If he examines his reasons for not entering the Inn, keeping watch from the other side of the street instead, he draws a blank. 

Dream does not know why he did not go inside, he knows he froze at the sight of the closed door, the cramped space indoors he could see through the glass (glass, why so much glass everywhere). He had stepped back and waited for his unease to lift, and when that did not happen he had waited for Hob to leave so Dream might meet him outside, but the man did not leave the Inn until the owner practically threw him out on the street, long after midnight. Dream had stepped forward then, only to watch his old acquaintance break down against the building wall and sob. 

Why did Dream not go to him then? Why did he step back into the shadows and watch Hob drag himself up to his feet with a whimper and stumble down the street, hand trailing the wall for support. The only answer Dream can come up with is a supremely uncomfortable one.

He is a coward.

When it comes to relationships, Dream’s track record is disastrous, a fact that he is very aware of. He left Hob in 1889 with cutting words and no promise to return. Hob should by rights be angry at Dream, should be less trusting that he would show. But still the man waited for him at their next appointment, as if he had known Dream’s words to be products of his rage and not vows he would keep. Even if he doesn’t know it, Hob was right to expect Dream to not simply terminate their arrangement. Because here Dream stands, at the foot of Hob’s bed, watching the man sleep, too scared of a smug ‘I-knew-you’d-see-sense’ to dare approach him while awake.

Hob had slowly made his way home, unaware of Dream following him, drawn to him like there was a string tying them to each other. By then Dream felt like the point where he could make himself known had passed, but he hadn’t been able to leave. He kept trailing after Hob, into his small two-room apartment; had watched him shed only his shoes and then stood in the shadows of his curtains while Hob took out a small leather-bound book and pen and started to write. Dream had felt like a ghost, a nightmare watcher haunting his victim. He had carefully reigned in any stray trickles of his power to not make himself known or Hob uncomfortable in his invisible presence. After a few minutes Hob had stopped writing and sighed. Then he wiped his hands over his face tiredly and went to bed, not bothering to get out of his clothes.

Dream stands beside the table with the book now. The pages are still open. His eyes seek out the words unbidden, unable to resist the pull of the written word. He knows he is breaking a lot of taboos this evening. He is invading his friend’s privacy most thoroughly. The knowledge does not stop him from reading what Hob has written.

June 7th 8th, 1989

He didn’t come. The bastard really didn’t come. I can’t believe it. I was so sure he would show. That he was just angry, prideful and stubborn as he is, but surely a hundred years would be long enough to calm down?

Apparently they weren’t. I sat there, at our table at the White Horse, drinking one whiskey after the other, waiting like an idiot until they threw me out, and he didn’t show.

Do you even remember me? Or did you cut me from your memory, like you promised to cut all our ties, the night you left me standing in the rain? Have I left any impact at all on your immortal life that is probably much longer than my own? Surely it must be obvious to you that you have impacted my life more than anyone else. You are the only one who knows me, who knows Hob Gadling, the rough, foolish mercenary who bragged about never dying. Who raised himself from the dirt of the poor just to fall back down again, deeper than ever before. Rise and fall, and rise again only to be put in my place by you again - and rightfully so. 

In 1889 I had finally managed to find some middle ground, feeling safe enough to finally be honest with you - at least partially. And it all blew up in my face.

I should have known, really. Your relaxed smiles for the last centuries were too good to be true. I shouldn’t have trusted my gut and spilled some of the beans. But it had been lonely the last few decades and I thought we had reached an understanding. I thought I knew you, if not as well as you have to know me by now, but enough to take that leap of faith.

I leapt. And you let me fall I fell again. I should be used to it by now, one might think. But when it’s you nothing is simple and the stakes are so much higher.Do you know what you mean to me? Your name is written on a wall inside my heart and I don’t think that any amount of alcohol can wash it away. And I don’t even know it. I don’t know your name but it’s in there, and it’s not coming off. I know. I tried. Although it hurts that you stood me up, I believe that you’ll come back to meet me one day. I will believe in you, no matter what. I have to, for there is no other constant in my life but you. I have to hope.

‘You’re the only one who really knew me at all, and you coming back to me is against all odds, but it’s a chance I’ve got to take’, like Phil says.

Dream does not know who Phil is, but a quick glance at the general human subconscious reveals the quoted words as part of a song by an artist Hob seems to be referring to. Dream perceives the song’s lyrics and its general feeling and swallows heavily. It appears to be an apt choice for Hob’s current emotional state. He reads the last few words while the notes of the song linger in his mind.

So I’ll be here when you’re ready. I hope you know how to find me when they inevitably tear the old place down, but I guess you do. I hope so. I really hope so. I just want to know that you’re okay. I need to know that I’m not alone. There are others like me, I’ve met some. But it’s not the same. No one is like you. No one is as

Please come back

The words cut off abruptly, Hob having clearly been too tired to write more. Dream’s newly reclaimed powers put everything in much sharper relief. Shutting off the flow of emotions from the subconscious comes both easier and harder somehow. Pulling himself back into this singular humanoid shape at Hob’s bedside takes a particular effort he had forgotten since he furnished his ruby. It is not hard, but a task he has to accustom himself to again. Dream pauses for several minutes, quite literally collecting himself, unsure of his next actions.

He looks at Hob again. His face is slack in his sleep, relaxed and calm. Dream only glances at Hob’s dreams to ascertain if they are calm or troubled but finds nothing too upsetting. He does not want to intrude further than he already has so he keeps himself from viewing his friend’s dreams. 

His friend. Friend. The word that had sent Dream running in affront a century ago. Despite himself, struck by a sudden urge to talk to Hob, Dream inhales sharply and silently sits down on the chair in front of the open notebook. He carefully picks up the pen and sets it to the empty paper below Hob’s own words.

My friend.

I apologise for missing our meeting 

I owe you more than one apology. You were correct in your assessment the last time we met. I was am lonely. With one word you dismantled my defences and left me too vulnerable to bear at the time. I was rude to you, and I regretted my words as soon as I had left you. However, as you well know, I am a prideful, stubborn being. Strange, to be able to admit it so easily now. I’ve always known it, and you’re not the first to call me out on it, but of course I would never have allowed anyone who talked to me like that to speak to me again. So I told you I’d leave you, not able to accept that you were, ARE, my friend.

And that I need you, like you need me

I have not forgotten you, Hob Gadling. I do not forget anyone. You are cradled in the vastness of my being like every other mind, your story preserved for all time. This, of course, you cannot know, as I have never introduced myself to you. Again, something I’d like to apologise for. I will, however, endeavour to give you my name in person, and soon.

I would have done so today yesterday, but. For some reason I cannot name I felt unable to approach you or enter our usual meeting place. I know you waited and I am deeply sorry for troubling you.

You have indeed made an impact on my life. Maybe not in the same way I did on yours, but nonetheless our meetings have become something I look forward to. You surely wonder why I never told you who I am. I was not able to admit it a hundred years ago, but to meet you, who knows nothing of my role and my duties, is freeing in a way nothing else is in my existence. You look upon me as your friend, and nothing else. You cannot imagine how much I enjoy the time spent in your presence, listening to your accounts of the last century.

I could not

I was unable to experience much of human history over the last century. This has left me with a certain uneasiness in regards to humanity. I would humbly ask for your patience, once again. As I am trying to gather the courage find the time to gather the courage to meet you in person. Perhaps this book can provide a form of communication, for the time being.

Sincerely, your old friend

Dream drops the pen like it’s burning his fingers and rises swiftly, stepping back from the table and notebook before he can rip out the page he has written in a fit of panic. He has revealed far more than he intended to but it is only fair to leave Hob these words, after what he has put him through.

Dream allows himself one last look at Hob, still sleeping peacefully, before returning back to the Dreaming. There is much to think about. His reluctance to interact with humanity cannot stand if he is to perform his function. Walking with Death has helped him put things in perspective again but he still fears. What? What does he have to fear? He has no need for humans liking him. As he examines his feelings and his earlier short interactions with humans on his way to the White Horse, Dream realises that he does not care about all humans. He only cares about how Hob perceives him. 

Perhaps knowing that he had to introduce himself this time, clearly owing it to his friend, Dream had been afraid of losing Hob’s easy camaraderie. Surely exposing himself as Endless will have a pruning effect on Hob’s relaxed and friendly demeanour. Dream does not want that. But perhaps… No. He will wait for Hob’s reply in his notebook, if it comes. Should he choose to answer Dream, he will then decide how to proceed further. Surely any speculation right now is fruitless.

Trying to put the matter out of his mind for now, Dream goes to resume his work. He is aware enough to know that fear of Hob’s reaction was not the only reason he didn’t enter the White Horse. He needs to work through some things. Perhaps some new nightmares made of planes of suffocating glass will help him put some things behind him.

[Spoiler: of course they won’t, oh honey 🥺]

Part 2

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

After sandwiches, Nancy turns to El. “Could you look for Barb again?”

El sets her mouth and nods. She glances at Steve, who also nods and moves to set up the living room again.

Eddie follows him in and picks up the blindfold. Steve doesn’t try to hide his smirk. “You’ve got questions, I’m guessing?”

Eddie shrugs, leans against the couch. Watches the fabric as he pulls it through his fingers. Right hand, left hand. Right, left. “Mostly thinking I was wrong about you. Even more than I initially thought.”

Steve smiles. “We never got to have this conversation in the future, but I do know what your bandana means.” He stops for a second, watches Eddie’s hands. Right, left. “I’m offering… not an olive branch, per se, but…”

“An invitation?” Right, left.

“Exactly.” He shrugs. “If there’s anything you want to know…” he trails off, lets it hang in the air.

Eddie smiles. “Just one thing.” He holds it up in his left hand. “Who d’you use it on?”

Steve grins and turns away, looking for the remote. “Myself.” His smile falls. “Or- I did. You heard about the Russians, right?”

Eddie steps up beside him. Offers him the blindfold. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Steve shrugs. “I’d say if I could go back in time, but…” he gestures around with a grin, letting it widen when Eddie chuckles. “Turns out going back in time does nothing for the memories I already have.”

Eddie frowns. “Kinda fucked up, isn’t it? Your body reverted back to its sixteen-year-old self, but your brain is still twenty.”

“I mean, imagine me coming to school one day looking like this, and the next I come in with scars, looking half a decade older. People would talk.”

Eddie hums. “You’re probably right. Still, it can’t be easy, having those mental reminders with none of the physical.”

Steve grins at him. “Did you miss the part where I don’t have concussions?”

Eddie snorts. “Fair enough. Still, I bet the scars looked badass.”

“Very metal,” Steve agrees. “Y’know, if you’d survived? We woulda had matching scars.” He trails a hand down his side. “The bats ripped us both open. Woulda gotten me if you, Robin and Nance hadn’t gotten there when you did. You took on a bat with nothing but an oar from a rowboat.” He turns to look at Eddie. “You told me once, how you’re a coward. How you run.” He shakes his head, looks away. “You didn’t. Not when it mattered. And you won’t this time.”

“Maybe this time we’ll have matching not-scars,” Eddie says, then points at Steve. “And no concussions.”

“And no concussions,” Steve parrots, laughing. “If we have to deal with the Russians again, though? I’m definitely doing something different.”

“We,” Eddie murmurs, shrugging when Steve looks at him. “We’ll do something different. You think any of these kids are gonna leave you alone after this? You think Eleven will leave you alone?”

“I hope not,” Steve answers honestly. “And you? You’re staying?”

Eddie shrugs again. “You said I didn’t run when it mattered. Who’s to say this doesn’t matter just as much? I’m not running.”

Steve smiles softly at him. “You’re a good man, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie levels him with a look. “I sell weed, Steve.”

Steve snorts. “I’m well aware, dude, I’ve bought from you before. If all goes well, I’m planning on buying another.”

Eddie laughs. “Hell, man, if it all goes well, I’ll give it to you, free of charge.”

Steve winks. “I’ll hold you to it,” he says, then leaves Eddie to process while he goes to get El.

Of course wherever El goes, Mike’s not far behind, which means he, Dustin and Lucas follow, and of course Nancy follows, and since everyone else is already in there, Jonathan and Robin follow too, so they all end up crammed in the living room again, with bated breaths and tightly-held hands, as El settles in front of the TV and puts the blindfold on.

Finally, she speaks. “I see her. She is alive.”

Nancy slumps into the couch and lets out a breath.

Then El speaks again. “She does not have very long.”

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[strawchocoberry]

THE HEART WANTS WHAT IT WANTS

୨୧ featuring: dainsleif, alhaitham, kaeya, tartaglia x fem reader

ଘ tw: angst || abduction (dainsleif’s part) || blood, violence (tartaglia’s part)

ଘ cw: lore spoilers || smut, fingering, handjob, oral sex, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, intimate sex

୨୧ synopsis: even after breaking up, the two of you can’t seem to let each other go

ଘ wc: 7k

ʚ DAINSLEIF ɞ

After the destruction of Khaenri’ah, Dainsleif had never thought that he’d find someone to connect with. Due to his curse, he kept his distance and refrained from meddling with other people. During one of his travels he encountered you. Monsters of the Abyss Order had surrounded you, trying to tear you apart. Without a second thought, he fought off the monsters and saved your life. Dainsleif thought you were weird when you willingly left your nation to join him in his travels. You argued that you had always wished to travel across Teyvat and you couldn’t let this chance pass by. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of having a travelling companion, but he soon changed his mind. 

You had noticed him disappearing in the middle of the night sometimes, only for him to be back in the morning, acting like he had never left. Once, hearing his footsteps get away, you decided to follow him. You found him a couple metres away, writhing in pain. And that’s when Dainsleif told you of his origin and his curse. He didn’t want you to know, so whenever the effects of erosion were too much for him, he would disappear so as to prevent you from finding out. You hugged him and ran your fingers soothingly through his hair, whispering that you were right there with him. Paradoxically, he found some comfort in your warmth, feeling his body numbing. 

You travelled together, fought monsters together — mostly Dainsleif fought them, but you helped as best as you could too. Falling in love wasn’t planned, yet it happened. And none of you complained. Despite the obstacles you faced, you were the happiest you could be at the time. You wished you could live like that forever. But Dainsleif was well aware that the gods weren’t favourable towards the people of Khaenri’ah. In the back of his mind, there was always fear. Fear that something would happen and he’d lose you. 

Since it would be dark soon, you found a cave to spend the night. Dainsleif went out to gather some wood for you to start a fire, while you gathered fruits from nearby trees and bushes. When he returned, you were nowhere to be found around the cave. He called your name several times, but received no response. He noticed how the fruits had fallen to the ground, some of them had been smashed from the fall. Remnants of abyssal energy were left behind. Following the trail, Dainsleif tracked you down, who had been abducted by an Abyss Herald that had been looking for him. 

“You finally appeared, Dainsleif,” the Abyss Herald remarked. “I was thinking of sending her corpse to you if you hadn’t appeared within the next hour.”

“I-I’m sorry, Dain…” you cried your apology. 

“Release her, now,” Dainsleif demanded, getting ready to engage in battle if it were needed. 

And when the former refused to cooperate with him, he easily took care of the Abyss Herald and rushed to your side immediately. “It’s fine, you’re safe now,” he whispered in your ear, kissing the top of your head. Your abduction made it clear to him that the Abyss Order knew about you. Dainsleif cursed at himself for putting your life in danger because of him. A few days later, you arrived back to the place you had first met. And that’s where Dainsleif bid you goodbye. He knew he was a coward, leaving you there alone and vanishing in the shadows of the night, but he couldn’t allow you to get hurt because of him again. 

There was no happily ever after for you. You realised that the next morning when you couldn’t find him anywhere. You were in pain. You cursed at him endlessly, whilst wishing for his return. Some of your old friends found you by chance and took care of you. Your house surprisingly was still intact, everything was exactly how you had left it. Your old life was forced upon you, only now it appeared to be an even greater burden. Knowing Dainsleif, you were well aware that you wouldn’t see him again. He would never return and even if you embarked on a journey to search for him, he’d make sure you never find him. 

Without you by his side, Dainsleif returned back to his old ways. He slayed monsters and hunted down the Abyss Order. The effects of his erosion seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. He hadn’t realised how much serenity you brought to his turbulent soul. He had promised that he’d stay away. He had promised that he’d never step foot there again. And yet there he was, asking around for the direction of your house. Dainsleif planned to take a quick look and make sure you were okay; nothing more, nothing less. The basket with fruits fell from your hands when you saw him standing at your front door. 

“Shit…” he cursed, noticing you behind him. He should have known better than to act so recklessly, but he couldn’t help himself. Dainsleif attempted to flee again, only this time you didn’t let him. Catching his wrist, you dragged him behind you inside your house, shutting the door behind you. Before he could react, you slapped him with such force that his head turned to the side. Touching upon his reddened cheek, Dainsleif turned to look at you. His eyes widened at your broken expression, tears falling from your eyes. 

“Why…” you murmured. “Tell me why…! Why did you leave?!” Your voice broke in the end. 

“To keep you safe,” he responded. “As long as you were with me, the Abyss Order would hurt you again and again just to find me. I left to protect you.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Protect me?” you questioned. Lifting up your sleeve, he was left shocked to look at the scar in your arm. “An Abyss Herald came looking for me a few days ago,” you revealed, rolling your sleeve back down. “It doesn't matter whether I am with you or not anymore. The Abyss Order knows about me being involved with you and they’ll come for me either way.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around your body as if to protect yourself. 

His mind started making what if scenarios; If she was with me, then maybe she wouldn’t have got hurt. Maybe she wouldn’t have to be so scared. Maybe we… Dainsleif stopped himself. If he got caught in that endless spiral, then it was over. His eyes were locked on your trembling form. He knew he had to say something, but he didn’t know what. If he apologised, would you feel better or would that enrage you? If he left now, would you follow him? If he asked you to join him in his travels again, would you consider that he was being selfish? 

“I’m so stupid for loving you even now…” you mumbled. 

But he heard you. 

“How can you still love me?”

“I can’t hate you, Dain…”

You took a step towards him, he took a step back. He was scared of letting you in again. It hadn’t been that long since you stopped travelling together. Maybe if a little more time passed, the Abyss Order would realise that you were useless to them and leave you alone. And yet when his back hit the wall and you were standing right in front of him, Dainsleif couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. He hated himself for giving in, but only he knew how much his heart had suffered all this time you were apart. 

His hand roamed down to your thighs and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he walked towards the table across him. Placing you on top of it, he kissed your lips, as he stood in-between your legs. You undressed each other, kissing now as if you were starved people. You palmed his hard cock, whilst Dainsleif teased your clit with his thumb, his right hand massaging your breast. You both moaned in your kiss as you cummed. Laying you on your back, he placed your legs on his shoulders, as he aligned himself with your dripping cunt. His thrusts were slow, yet he reached deep inside you, having you cream all over him. 

He had missed how your cunt clamped down at him, making his eyes roll to the back of his skull. Dainsleif couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, holding tightly onto either side of the bed with your parted lips that moaned his name again and again and again. You could feel him throbbing against your velvet walls, which drove you mad. No, there could never be a chance for the two of you to be apart. You were too perfectly made for each other to be able to live without one another. 

Your body trembled as you reached your orgasm. A few more thrusts later, Dainsleif pulled back and cummed all over your lower abdomen. Lowering your legs from his shoulders, he pulled you up, your chest colliding with his. You were both panting hard, as you looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Your fingers traced the red handprint on his cheek, making him wince a little, causing you to giggle, before you kissed his lips. You shared slow, open-mouthed kisses until you had been deprived of oxygen again. The night was young and Dainsleif was going to make sure to repay you for the pain he had caused you. 

His promises of never leaving you again got you high, as he washed your body in all kinds of pleasures. You were taken over by feelings of immense love, adoring every single mark Dainsleif painted upon the canvas that was your body. You could see the sun threaten to rise in the sky, you could feel your body having grown numb from the overstimulation. And yet, you still wished this moment would never come to an end. 

ʚ ALHAITHAM ɞ

Usually, one would be most glad to receive a promotion. However, Alhaitham would beg to disagree. When he was asked to assume the role of Grand Sage after the events that drastically changed all of Sumeru, he flat out refused, knowing all too well how much of a hustle that would be. And he was proved correct, as now that he was temporarily occupying the position, Alhaitham was too immersed in his work, not even having time to enjoy the luxury of a good night’s sleep. And you? He hated to admit that you didn’t cross his mind once; at least not on a personal level. 

“I tried to find a better solution. But all my calculations led to this single answer.” 

You could see the sadness behind his usually apathetic eyes. Alhaitham hated every moment of shattering your precious heart to pieces, the part of you he loved the most, though he had no other choice. The Acting Grand Sage had expressed countless times his desire for being released of his duties as soon as possible, yet finding the person who would assume the position next proved to be a more difficult task than it was first anticipated. And Alhaitham had grown tired of giving you false hope. He was certain that at this point, he might be forced onto the role permanently. 

“I understand,” you replied, giving him the best smile you could at the moment, as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

Running out of his office, you bumped into Kaveh, who was just about to knock on the door. You passed by him, without so much as exchanging a word with him and ran out of the Akademiya. Returning to your house, you fell onto your bed and cried your heart out to your pillow. You loved Alhaitham more than you had expected at the start of your relationship. You realised that he wasn’t happy about this turn of events. Looking at the side of the bed he usually occupied, you couldn’t help recalling him sitting there with a book in hand, welcoming you to another day. You cursed at him, cursed at his decision to choose his work over you. “I hate—” And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to utter those words. 

And as Kaveh gave him an earful, Alhaitham could only think of you crying. He appeared perfectly composed on the outside, but on the inside he was being eaten alive. He was well aware that now that’s taken care of, he should probably focus on his work. But that seemed quite unrealistic at the moment. He chose the irrational decision of allowing himself to leave early that night and drink his sorrow away at the tavern. Kaveh realised how hurt he was when he invited him to join him. And while he tagged along, he didn’t have a single glass of wine that night, knowing that he should at least stay sober and help Alhaitham return home. 

The timing of your breakup couldn’t have been worse. The next day, as the newly appointed Grand Conservator you had to give your monthly report to the Acting Grand Sage. Both of you refrained from making eye contact with each other. Instead, you only gave yourselves permission to steal a few glances at one another’s state. Alhaitham noticed your puffy red eyes, as you elaborated on some problems the House of Daena was facing in a monotonous voice. As he went through the documents, you observed how he rested his head on his hand, grimacing from time to time, a sign that he was experiencing a headache. Or more like a hangover, as he reeked of alcohol. 

Your meetings continued like that. Neither making eye contact nor making small talk. You simply sat back and watched each other being eaten alive by everyday life’s troubles and the weight of one’s absence from the other’s life. Kaveh, who was close to both of you, couldn’t help but be worried for the two of you. He had planned a trip to the desert for research, but he ultimately postponed it and stayed behind to help you out. Time seemed to pass slowly, the hours working in the Akademiya felt endless and you were both desperate for some time off work, even though that was impossible at the moment. It took all his willpower, but Alhaitham managed to erase you from his mind, him now focusing solely on his work, just as he wished. 

It was late at night. You simply needed to put two books back on the shelves and you could clock out. You noticed that the last book belonged to a higher shelf than you could reach. You sighed as you stood on your toes, struggling to put the book back. You were about to give up, when someone took it from your hand and placed it on the shelf. Turning over your shoulder to look at the tall figure looming over you, your eyes widened in shock at the person standing behind you. 

“A-Acting Grand Sage?!” you exclaimed. 

Alhaitham clicked his tongue in annoyance, hearing you call him that. Ever since you two broke up, you hadn’t once called him by his name. His features softened with a sigh, as he leant closer to you, pinning you onto the bookcase. He remained silent for a moment, before he took a deep breath and started speaking. “I realised that breaking up with you was the most irrational choice I had ever made. I realised that when I stopped thinking about you. But even that is a lie, because truthfully you were always in the back of my mind.” He wrapped his left arm around you, bringing your body closer to his. “I know that I’m not worthy of your heart anymore. However, if you could—”

“Don’t misunderstand,” you interrupted him. He couldn’t see your face, but the tightening of your stomach made it clear to him that you were on the verge of crying. “I… I want you back. However, you have your own responsibilities. And I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to choose me or your work again.”

“I quit,” he announced. “Everyone kept asking me to stay, even though I had expressed my desire not to. So, I pressured them into making haste with the procedures of finding a suitable Grand Sage.” Alhaitham turned you around, a bittersweet smile curving on his lips, looking at you crying. “And now, I’m back to being the Akademiya’s Scribe,” he said, wiping away the tears. He caressed softly your cheek, his eyes looking deep into yours. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much.”

His lips crushed yours, finally feeling alive. He clung to you desperately, for you were oxygen, breathing life into him. Alhaitham placed his hand on the back of your head, as he pinned you back onto the bookshelf. Sucking you dry of oxygen, he pulled back, looking at you panting hard. You were breathless, but he couldn’t help thinking how breathtakingly beautiful you were. The most gorgeous being in Teyvat. And you were his, again. His usually calm heart had started skipping beats, just how it always did when you were around him. 

You grasped his biceps frantically, burying your face on his chest, as his fingers slipped underneath your skirt, rubbing now your clothed cunt, feeling you getting slowly aroused. Under any other circumstances, you would have already pulled back, insisting that it was inappropriate of you to have sex in the House of Daena. Nonetheless, your willpower to pull away was long gone, not to mention that nobody was there except for the two of you. You craved his touching you, craved his moaning your name, craved his intimate side only you were aware of. 

Pulling his collar, you sucked on his exposed neck. You couldn’t help but moan, as Alhaitham pulled your panties to the side and slid his fingers into your soaked cunt. Unconsciously, you bit his neck, making him whimper, but he didn’t mind you marking him, since it meant that you marked what was yours. Your nails dug into his black sleeves and you were thankful for his hand holding you, because otherwise you might have already lost your balance long ago. Your moans were a blessing, the long awaited reward for his hard work. And despite loving hearing you moan his name, Alhaitham couldn’t resist his urge to kiss you. 

Your walls tightened around his fingers, coating them in your slick, his name breathlessly escaping your lips. Pulling them out, he licked them clean and kissed your cheek, as you tried to regulate your breathing. Burying himself in the crook of your neck, Alhaitham lovingly kissed your upper body. “I need you… Inside me… Please… Alhaitham…” you breathed your plea, attempting to unbuckle his belt. And who was he to deny your request? Giving you a helping hand, he kissed your lips, as he aligned himself with your cunt. You both moaned as he slowly dived in, your bodies overtaken by the familiar feeling of belonging. 

With your back on the bookshelf and his hand to protect your head, Alhaitham used his other hand to rock your hips on his, thrusting at a slow pace, feeling his cock stretch every part of you. His touch set your body ablaze, but even if you were to get burnt, you wouldn’t mind if it was because of him. You felt drunk, overwhelmed by the intimacy of having him in you once again. His hold on you was delicate, yet firm, for he feared you might slip out of his hands. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer to you and kissed him, reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“I love you…” he whispered in your lips. 

“I love you too…” you whispered back. 

You could both feel your releases building up. And yet, you didn’t wish to rush it, wanting to cherish the moments leading up to euphoria. The love-dipped gazes, the moaning of each other’s names, the hold grip on one another’s body; you were getting high by the intimacy you shared for the first time in a long time. Alhaitham slammed your body in his, burying himself deep in your cunt, as you both orgasmed at the same time. He remained still, as he grabbed your chin and tilted your head up to face him, his lips capturing yours.

ʚ KAEYA ɞ

“You’re serious about him?”

“I am.” 

“I see.” Diluc sighed. “Just be careful. You might find something that you don’t like in time.” 

Diluc wasn’t one to meddle in your private life. Although since you were involved with Kaeya on a personal level, he couldn’t help but worry for your well-being, knowing all too well every aspect of his adoptive brother. You sometimes remembered back when you were young, the three of you played together in the Dawn Winery. Everything changed with Crepus Ragnvindr’s death about three years ago. At the time, your superior, Lisa, had sent you to Liyue to acquire some new books for the library. Informed of the events that had occurred in Mondstadt, you hurried back, only to meet the two once close brothers torn apart. You never learnt what was the real reason for their fallout. 

Truthfully speaking, you didn’t take Diluc’s words seriously, thinking that they stemmed from his hatred towards Kaeya. You didn’t believe him, until it was too late. You had accidentally stumbled upon a peculiar book hidden in Kaeya’s apartment. It piqued your interest, so without giving much thought to it, you started reading it. It turned out to be a diary of someone from Khaenri’ah. Not much is known about that nation, only that no god ruled over it. “This is your chance. You are our last hope.”, my father told me, then vanished. You were slowly starting to realise that you had touched something forbidden. You should have quickly put it back where you found it, yet you couldn’t stop reading. 

“What are you doing?” Kaeya’s ice cold voice startled you. 

Raising your head, you met his gaze, fierce madness glowing in his eyes. He didn’t falter, not even at the sight of your tears that always had him worry sick and burn with anger as he would hunt down whoever had dared to hurt you. Kaeya didn’t utter a single word, he just looked at you through narrowed eyes, noticing how you were unwilling to answer his question. Taking the diary — his diary — from your hands, he put some distance between you two, facing the window, as he took a look upon the part you had been reading when he caught you. He heaved a deep sigh, noticing you had reached the fateful day he and Diluc fell apart; the day he gained his Cryo Vision in his duel with Diluc. 

“You weren’t supposed to find out about this,” Kaeya mumbled to himself, earning a sorrowful “yes” from you. “Get out.” 

“W-What?”

“Get out!” he yelled, as he turned around to face you. “Get out now!” 

He was brimming with anger. You had never seen him this enraged before. Your body started trembling as one feeling instinctively usurped control of your body; fear. You were scared — scared of him. The moment you stepped out of his house you knew. It was over. Running in the rain, your heart left behind a trail of blood, aching in your chest as if you had been stabbed. Kaeya let out a frustrated shout, starting wrecking the place, whilst tears fell from his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, we’re closed.”

“Diluc—” Your voice was caught in your throat, unable to let another word come out. 

You knew that you were selfish at the moment, running into his arms and crying, especially when the cause of your tears was one of the people stuck in his heart like a thorn. You didn’t know where else to go, though. “I had warned you about him.” Diluc sighed, as he soothingly rubbed your back. And right then, you wished you had listened to him more carefully. Maybe if you had, you would have been more prepared for this. 

The next day, at the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius, everyone quickly picked up on the blizzard of an atmosphere that surrounded the two of you. You holed up in the library, taking all the books out and dusting them off, then putting them back to their place, over and over again. You needed to keep your mind occupied, otherwise you feared you would collapse. Receiving news that the Cavalry Captain had left for a mission to Dragonspine made you feel both relief and pain. 

Kaeya had lost track of time. He killed and killed monsters every day, occasionally engaging in battle with some Fatui that sought to vex him. The Knights had lost contact with him. When they were informed of a collapse in the Starglow Cavern, the last place Kaeya was seen before communications were cut off, Jean sent a team to search for him. Ultimately, he was found a little further from there, once more killing monsters. When he returned to Mondstadt, the Active Grand Master scolded him for his inappropriate conduct. Yet now that he was back, all Kaeya could think was you. 

Without realising, he found himself in front of your house. He hesitated, but eventually he knocked on your door. Emerging from the depths of your house, you went to open the door to see who it was at such a late hour. You thought that Diluc might have passed by again, asking you to come stay at the Dawn Winery for a few days, so that he can keep a better eye on you. You clearly weren’t expecting Kaeya standing at your doorstep. He was a wreck; dark circles underneath his eye, loss of weight and no sign of his mischievous smile. Not that you were one to judge, being in a similar state. 

“I…” he started, but paused. 

Would you listen to him? Would you even want to listen to him in the first place? Those questions tormented him. He hadn’t thought about your feelings prior to his appearance at your doorstep. Kaeya was driven by his desire to talk to you, explain to you the horrors in his mind in hopes that maybe he could save whatever fragment of your relationship had endured thus far, no matter how small and insignificant it was. Looking at you, your terrified expression of that night flashed before his eyes. He was about to run away, when you caught his wrist. 

“Come inside. It’s rather cold out here, isn’t it?” You nervously smiled. 

Reluctantly, he followed you inside and sat beside you on the couch. He was confused as to why you hadn’t already kicked him out. You had promised yourself that if he came looking for you, you’d give him the chance to speak his mind, whatever that might be. He could curse you or answer all your questions; it didn’t matter to you. But you weren’t going to go find him, not wanting to aggravate him. If he never came, then that’s that and you were going to accept it. However, there was one thing you wanted to tell him if you ever got the chance. 

“I’m sorry for reading your diary that night. I… I shouldn’t have read something so personal to you. I apologise for making you angry. You had every right to be enraged with me.” 

“I… I wasn’t enraged with you,” Kaeya revealed. “I was pissed at myself. I knew that the day would come when you would find out, when everyone would find out. I didn’t tell you, because I was scared of losing you… Just like I lost Diluc… And I… I wouldn’t be able to live if you were gone—” 

You interrupted him by kissing his lips. Pulling back, you caressed his cheek, wiping away the tear that fell from his eye. You marvelled at the star-shaped iris, as you had assumed you would never see it again this close. Wrapping his arm on your waist, Kaeya pulled you on his lap, his lips finding yours once more. Your fingers ran through his hair, as his hands delicately traced your back. Breaking the kiss, you were both out of breath, yet you craved for each other, having missed the warmth of one another’s body. 

Ridding him of his cape and blouse, you kissed his lips, then his neck and all the way down to his tight pants. Sitting now on your knees in-between his spread legs, you removed the remaining clothes that were in your way and looked up at him, as you took his cock in your palm, slowly starting to stroke him. You licked his tip that was already leaking some precum, aroused only by you slightly touching him. Kaeya let out a deep moan, as you wrapped your lips around him, your tongue swirling around his shaft and teasing that one vein that had him grab hard onto the couch. 

Taking a glance at him, you noticed how flushed red his cheeks were, drunk as he was, despite not having had a single drop of alcohol. You heard him moaning your name, drenching your panties at the melody. One hand slipped down and pulled your panties aside, then you rubbed your clit, slick coating your fingers. Kaeya was close, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling you onto his lap once again, he undressed you in a hurry, then buried his face on your breasts, taking one nipple in your mouth and sucking on it, as his fingers were already working on your pulsating cunt. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and a whiny whimper escaped your lips at the loss of his fingers right before your release, but soon enough you felt his cock slowly immersing in your tight walls. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed his lips, as he started guiding your hips into riding him. Your back arched and his name echoed in your moans, whilst Kaeya was busy leaving love marks all over your breasts, holding your upper body carefully in place with one hand, the other resting on your ass, giving it a slight squeeze from time to time. 

Already aroused as you were, it didn’t take long for the two of you to cum. Even so, you weren’t quite done yet, not feeling satisfied enough by this tiny bit of intimacy you had shared. You craved for more, the hole of each other’s disappearance not having yet healed. Holding onto your hand, Kaeya brought it to his lips and kissed the back of your palm, then locked your fingers, as he continued thrusting into you, driving you towards your orgasm once more. 

ʚ TARTAGLIA ɞ

“I think I didn’t hear you correctly, sir,” Tartaglia sneered, before his expression turned deadly. “Mind repeating that?”

“That woman has made you soft. She is restraining your killing tendencies. She is a threat to you,” Pierro repeated calmly. “Kill her.” 

“I refuse.” 

Pierro sighed deeply. The next moment the leader of the Harbingers looked at Tartaglia, he hated to admit that the bloodlust made him tremble. He was well aware of the Jester’s capabilities and to what lengths he would go to achieve his goals. 

“Kill. Her.” 

“I… I can’t…” Tartaglia confessed, his voice breaking. 

“This is what I mean when I say that she’s a thorn on your side. You must get rid of her.” Pierro turned to look the younger dead in the eyes. “Otherwise, I will.”

The 11th Harbinger thought hard about a way to fix this. It was known within the ranks of the Fatui that he was in a relationship with his second-in-command. Tartaglia never intended to hide it anyway. And whilst nobody seemed to be bothered, after all this time you had been together, Pierro had put you on his black list of people he must eliminate. Convincing the adamant Jester wasn’t an easy task, but in the end, he managed to reach the most favourable conclusion he could have hoped to achieve. 

“I… I can’t do this anymore…” 

“A-Ajax…?” You felt your heart clenching on your chest. His words kept ringing like a curse in your ears. And yet, you couldn’t understand what had happened for you to end up to this very moment. You knew that Tartaglia wasn’t the person to joke about such matters and, no matter how many times you observed him, there was no hint of lying on his face. But you couldn’t accept that. As you fell on your knees, you wished that he was joking. Looking up at him with tears welled up in your eyes, you came to the harsh realisation that this was no prank. He meant every single word. 

Before his self-control crumbled to dust and he knelt down to hug you tightly, apologising for his cruel words, Tartaglia turned around and left your house. As he closed the door behind him, he heard you screaming his name, followed by painful sobs. It took everything he had not to turn back. The further away he got from you, the more his mask had broken, his tears falling from his eyes. He deliberately spent the evening out in the cold snow in hopes that his tears would seize. He barely made it back home. He cursed at himself for he was weak. Yes, he was weak against the Jester. Even if he challenged him to a duel, Tartaglia knew that he was going to lose. 

There was a morning meeting of the Harbingers the next day. Pacing through the corridors, you headed over to the meeting room. You were baffled as to why you had been called. And while you should have been pondering over that, the only thing on your mind was how you were going to behave in front of him. No matter how much makeup you used, your eyes still betrayed the fact that you had cried yourself to sleep till late at night. If you were to see him now, you weren’t sure whether you’d break down or attack him, demanding an explanation. The strong auras of the Harbingers didn’t give you the chance to lament further, as you were abruptly forced into work mode. 

“As of today, you will be working under the Captain,” Pierro informed you. 

You didn’t understand what led to your transfer under another Harbinger, but you thanked Her Royal Highness for this development. It was an understatement that working under Tartaglia would have been pure torture right now. A lot of people praised the Captain. You remember Viktor mentioning that he wished to work under him one day. Walking behind the tall man, the two of you already being dispatched for a mission, you thought that you had been lucky. You wouldn’t have wanted to end up working for the Doctor or the Jester himself. 

Soon enough you realised that the missions the ever-righteous Captain was sent to were a hundred — maybe a thousand — times more dangerous than those you and Tartaglia were sent to. In order to stay true to himself and uphold his unwavering sense of justice, the Captain wasn’t afraid to brutally crush his opponents. One thought crossed your mind, as you watched him tearing apart his enemies; If I get in his way, I’ll die. You made sure to keep that in mind. 

You were soon forced to admit that you needed to train more, as you had been circled by four opponents. Cuts and wounds had covered your body, while you struggled to fight back. It took all you had to manage to cut down those fiends, before collapsing on the ground, feeling dizzy by the blood loss. You felt something warm falling onto your shoulders and noticed that it was the Captain’s coat. The Harbinger lifted you in his arms and took you to a nearby Fatui camp, where he treated your wounds. He seemed different from when he was fighting. Maybe it was his intimidating appearance, but you thought that he was much more gentle and kind than you had anticipated. 

And despite having to throw yourself in danger during every mission, your mind couldn’t stop thinking about him. You cursed at him as you slayed your enemies, imagining them as him. The Captain noticed how you had gradually grown to be more reckless and offered his help to lessen your burden. No matter how much you cursed him, your heart would still bleed for him. Half a year had passed and you were still yearning for him. Thankfully, you had an abundance of enemies to take your anger out on, without having to feel any remorse. 

Tartaglia hadn’t been in a better state than you. His heart had broken millions of times seeing you after a mission again and again covered in blood — your blood. You were punishing yourself for still harbouring feelings for him. He knew that, because he knew you. He had once overheard some of the Captain’s subordinates discuss how your latest recklessness was going to cost you. He told himself that he wasn’t going to intervene in your mission, he was only going to watch you from afar. However, his body reacted before his mind could give the command, killing the enemy that was about to drive their sword straight through your heart from the back. 

Noticing him standing behind you, pulling out his blade from the now dead enemy, you couldn’t control yourself in the heat of the moment and attacked him. “Why are you here?!” you yelled. Despite you launching attack after attack, Tartaglia didn’t once go on the offensive; he only guarded himself against your lethal attacks, letting you inflict minor wounds throughout his entire body. This continued for a while, until you were both cut off from the Captain’s group and lost within the snowy forest. You were panting hard, tired from your previous battle. Your sword fell from your hand, as you collapsed on his chest. Even so, you continued punching him with your weak fists until you lost consciousness. 

When you woke up, you found yourself lying down on his bed with him standing next to you, gently caressing your hair. You tried to get away from him, but he managed to immobilise your body within mere seconds. You yelled at him to release you, but Tartaglia wasn’t going to. For once, he was going to act shamelessly and selfishly. “I… I never wanted to break up with you.” Despite your resistance, he explained to you what the Jester had asked of him and what he sacrificed in exchange for keeping you alive. “Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa, found out about Pierro's order. And she wasn’t particularly happy to say the least.” 

By now, you had calmed down, resting your head on his chest, barely keeping yourself from crying your heart out, realising how stupid you had been this past half year. “I know I should have told you about all this earlier. Maybe if I had… I… I didn’t want to get you killed because I’m weak…” His grip around you tightened. You could hear his voice breaking, as he buried his face on your shoulder. Turning around, you cupped his cheeks and smiled, as tears fell from your eyes, apologising for all the pain you caused him. 

He caught you off guard by kissing your lips. His arms were tightly holding onto your body, as if to prevent you from slipping away again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning as he bit your lower lip, his tongue infiltrating your mouth to find yours. Your body was set ablaze, memories of passionate nights taking over, as you started grinding against his clothed cock. Tartaglia pulled back and watched your head falling back, moaning his name, feeling himself getting hard. It had been so long since you last had sex and he wanted to relish the moment. 

He undressed you slowly, kissing every part of your body that had suffered in countless battles. “Ajax… Ajax…” Your moans made him impatient, yet he managed to maintain a level of self-control. Lying you delicately back on the mattress, he kissed your inner thighs, sucking on the tender flesh, before focusing on your drenched cunt. Tartaglia slowly ate you out, whilst keeping his eyes locked on you, watching you squirm and tightly grasp the bed sheets. His tongue was sucking your clit, while two of his fingers stretched out your hole, leading you to your release. 

Ridding himself of his clothes, he stroked his cock a few times, teasingly rubbing the tip on your wet folds, coating it in your slick. With a sharp thrust of his hips, he dived in your cunt, forcing the air out of your lungs. His thrusts were slow, yet intense. Leaning over you, Tartaglia buried his face on the crook of your neck, leaving behind his marks. Holding your hands, he intertwined your fingers. “I love you…” he moaned with each thrust. Your back arched, your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. For the first time in half a year, you felt alive. You caught his neck and forced him to lean closer, your lips crushing his, whilst your fingers ran through his ginger hair. 

“Ajax… Cum in me…” you requested. And he could never refuse you. You cunt spasmed on his throbbing cock, as you reached your high, moaning his name in his lips. Not long after, Tartaglia moaned your name in your lips, as he orgasmed, filling you up with his cum as you had asked him. He stayed deep inside you, as he kissed your lips. His hands caressed your cheek, not quite yet believing that you were truly there. He had promised himself that he would strive to get stronger so that nobody could tear you apart again. For the time being though, his main focus was making you feel loved.

© strawchocoberry — do not copy, repost, translate or reuse my work

[yanderes-galore]

yandere lamb with a bishop darling?

I can try my hand at this, sure! I really want to write more for this game but no one requests it :')

Yandere! The Lamb with Bishop! Darling

(FT. Yandere! Platonic! Narinder/TOWW)

Pairing: Romantic (The Lamb)/Platonic (Narinder/TOWW)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Worship yandere, Cults, Violence/Murder, Dubious relationship.

The Bishops are deities worshipped in the Old Faith.

The religion itself is cruel and inhumane, often requiring sacrifices of unwilling subjects.

The Bishops themselves, your siblings, could be considered cruel themselves.

Narinder, Bishop of Death, was sealed away after harming his siblings, you yourself may even have an injury from him too.

Leshy, the Bishop of Chaos, has always been too arrogant of his power.

Heket, the Bishop of Famine, is often aggressive and brings hunger to her followers.

Kallamar, Bishop of Pestilence, is a coward who brings sickness to his followers and fails to lead them.

Shamura, Bishop of War, often forced obedience through mind control.

Compared to your siblings and this religion, you could be a Bishop in two ways.

Perhaps you're better than them, the hope the followers need to continue suffering under the others.

Or maybe you're just as bad as your siblings?

(I'm biased to you being some sort of Bishop of Hope and Radiance yet you can be anything you want)

The point is, The Lamb may want to worship a Bishop! Darling.

Sure, they are meant to worship Narinder to free him... meaning they may have to slay you.

But The Lamb can't bring themselves to!

Even more so if you genuinely care for your followers.

I feel what would make this story even more intense is if Narinder was attached to you as his sibling.

That way he'd probably ask The Lamb to spare you, to force you into a messenger of the new cult.

After all, the other four betrayed him...

Not you.

Honestly just the thought of The Lamb trying to appease you is adorable.

Narinder prefers sacrifices, so The Lamb tries to pick followers they think you'll like.

You're given gold as wealth and often given gifts.

Even if The Lamb had to slay you, they'd probably bring you back to make you a follower.

The Lamb's obsession is only encouraged if Narinder likes you.

Narinder trusts The Lamb to convert you and your followers... along with treating you well.

To you, you may even find The Lamb's attempts at worship and maybe even courtship cute.

They bleat towards you before offering you gifts.

They conduct sermons about you and Narinder.

You're often depicted as the sibling of TOWW and are worshipped as such.

Anything romantic would be sort of strange unless you were made a follower.

The Lamb's romantic attractions towards you while you're still a deity may be more akin to someone saying they "love God" or something similar.

They love you and devote themselves to you.

Narinder, your brother, may even see The Lamb as a connection you two share.

A temporary connection... as TOWW has plans to ditch The Lamb once he is free.

You may see The Lamb as a follower of your own... or maybe even a pet.

You often speak to The Lamb, asking how their conquest is going.

You are aware of what they must do... it's bittersweet.

On one hand, your siblings (and maybe you) had it coming.

On the other hand... you wish none of this has to happen.

The Lamb tries to distract you from your mourning.

As Leshy, Heket, Kallamar, and Shamura fall... The Lamb tries to comfort you.

You try not to blame the pawn too much....

They are Narinder's form of punishment.

Lambs should never have been targeted in the first place after all.

It was foolish to think Narinder would never return.

As a result, you are in acceptance of your fate.

You accept The Lamb's offerings and bless them on their journeys.

You aren't sure how things will go when Narinder returns.

From what you hear, the Bishop of Death seems eager to see you again.

Part of you fears what's to come, but the others tried to fight it and perished...

So why should you?

The Lamb is often the one to pull you from your thoughts.

They come back from their crusades all proud and happy.

They always come to see you at your land and at the cult.

Knowing you can't fight the return of your brother, you aid his pawn.

His pawn, The Lamb, appears to adore you just as much.

The Lamb isn't entirely an intense yandere when you're a Bishop.

They come to see you often and try to follow where you go.

They only wish to worship you alongside your remaining brother!

You are wise enough to know you can't fight fate compared to your siblings...

So you accept The Lamb's offerings and adoration... which includes all of their love.

You wonder if Narinder will spare The Lamb once he comes back to rule yet again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your shift ends and you’re ready to just be alone. It isn’t your first choice of work. In Sokovia, you had your own office and you worked from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Here, your resume can’t get you much else than the convenience store gig. Money is money. After all you’ve lost, it’s the only thing left in this world with any meaning.

You come up to the house. It’s a dour building with chipped brick and dark windows. One is covered on the inside with newspaper. The stairs to the second level creak with your steps and your keys jingle as you twist them in the lock. Everything is so loud.

Inside, the hallway is grim with shadows. You kick off your shoes before you enter and clutch the strap of your bag. You have a package of ramen left. You’ll choke that down and close your eyes.

As you come further down the hall, you slow down, odd shapes littered across the floor just outside your door. You get nearer and notice your door is open. How can that be? You always lock it. You double and even triple check.

You stop short of the mess of your meagre belongings across the floor. Three cans, carrots, beans, and pees are dented on their sides; your package of ramen is crushed, the seam split and spilling out broken noodles; your only other sweater is slashed down the front, the stitching unraveling all around the gash; and your bedding dragged off your bed and into the hallway. All that you have, not much at all, right there before you.

You look at the blackened doorway. You can see from there that the top hinge is broken, you can assume the lock is too. You don’t dare go any further as you fear someone lurking inside. You turn back to the door, contemplating whether to retreat or brave the unknown.

The lock flips back, grinding as the deadbolt slides back, and the door opens. You brace yourself as S enters. He looks perturbed even before he sees you. You press your lips together, staring at him dumbly. His eyes meet yours and his brows arch. Then his gaze falls behind you.

He reaches to flip on the light switch beside the door frame. He exhales, disappointment, and closes the door, locking it. He beckons you closer with two fingers. You’re too addled to refuse. You move towards him and sidle against the wall as he signals past you.

Almost militarily, he marches past you. He takes out his cellphone and shines the light ahead of him. His other fist balls as he nears your bedroom. He flashes the light inside as he comes to fill the doorway. You see the room glow before him as his eyes search.

“Dirty coward’s not here,” he snarls as he lowers his phone, thumbing off the light. “... find him.”

He pivots and slides his phone into his back pocket. He seems even bigger as he strides away. You gulp and follow him. 

“Um, sir, it’s–”

“Not okay,” he passes by the kitchen and through the shared front room, “that creep–”

“Really, it’s not– I don’t want to–”

“Thinks he can mess with you. I don’t like bullies,” he growls as he continues on briskly.

“Please, er, I don’t like confrontation. Or violence.”

“I’m not going to get violent,” he stops at the next hall and turns halfway, “just gonna scare him like he did you.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I do. You don’t get it but I do,” he turns back to his mission and stomps into the hall. 

You’re a few steps behind him as he gets to the furthest door. He hammers on it with his large fist. You cower and wring your hands. Your legs shake as the loud pounding rolls in your head like thunder; like buildings collapsing all around you as plumes of dust and smoke choke your lungs.

“What do you think you’re doing, you little worm?” S’s sneer fades as the sight of him grabbing the greasy man by the collar blurs to coloured orbs.

You don’t hear the man’s response or what comes next. You cover your ears and stagger back until your back meets the wall. The memories of your home falling down around you, of the streets littered with bodies, screams erupting from every corner, as horror rains from the sky.

A slam brings you back. You quiver and gasp as you look over. Your hands are clutched in tight fists against your chest, nails digging into your palms. S steps back on his heel as he glares at the closed door.

“Don’t think he’ll bother you ag…” his voice trails as he looks around, stopping short as he sees you towards the other end of the hall, “I… are you alright?”

You can’t speak or move. You just stand, blinking, trembling, as you stare back at him. He nears and you flinch out of his reach as he stretches a hand out. You force your arms down.

“I don’t like violence,” you whisper.

“I didn’t hurt him. Just scared him.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I’m sorry, I thought…” he pauses, recalculating as you turn your chin away. “I didn’t think. I’m really sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shrug. You shake your head and drag your feet out of the hall. You cross the front room and go back down the next. You get down and start to gather up what you can salvage. The rest you’ll sweep into the dustpan.

“What are you going to do? Door’s broken.”

You stand up with the dented cans and your pillow. “Landlord.”

“She’ll have to call someone. She won’t answer her phone either. Too late.”

“What else can I do?” You mumble and go into your room.

You wade around the darkness cautiously but the lamp isn’t where it should be. You kick it with your foot. The overhead light doesn’t work. The space is illuminated by something else. You look at the star of light in the doorway, S’s silhouette behind it as he shines his phone inward.

You peer around. The smell of piss roils off the mattress. You can’t believe it. Why would he do that? To scare you? Why? You were nice. Except you didn’t let him in last night. The memory makes you shudder.

“Real piece of work. Hopefully Muriel finally evicts him,” S says, “I’ll vouch that it was him too.”

You don’t say anything. It seems like fate is against you. You can’t even have this shitty room.

“Tell you what, you can have my room for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch. The others don’t bother me.”

You hang your head, “I can’t…”

“Well, I can’t let you stay in here. Or out on the couch. If you won’t take it, I’ll just have to sleep outside your door.”

You roll your eyes, “why?”

He sniffs and lets out a long breath, “that’s what decent people do. They help each other.”

You’re exhausted and mortified and the smell of urine is making you sick. You don’t have the energy to argue. Not with this man. Just like the shake, you won’t win.

“Just the night,” you agree, “I’ll pay you for it–”

“I won’t take the money.”

“Please,” you beg.

“Keep your money,” he insists, “I have extra sheets. I’ll get those changed.”

You nod and stay in the darkness. You hug your possessions glumly, push your lip in and out as you wallow. You just need one good thing. Just one.

“How was it? The strawberry?” He lingers just outside the door as he shuts the light off, “I never tried it.”

You swallow, “a bit too sweet.”

[bubblegump-1-nk]

Shall I Write It in a Letter

pairing: Gryffindor!Reader x Theodore Nott

summary: In which Theo wakes up one morning and realizes he can no longer not have you, so he writes you a letter. But when that letter gets lost, things become complicated. - inspired by Anne with an E; song: Bloom by The Paper Kites.

Warnings: angst that could be fixed by simple communication 😒, hints of cheating

P.S: I super duper highly recommend to listen to the songs either before, during, or after you read my fics . Not only do they encapsulate what the fic is about, but they’re also just super good songs!! <33d

~~~

Christmas break had been in session for about a week and a half, and Theo was spending his time off at home. Although he was sad to be away from his friends, he was happy for the much needed alone time.

The sun was shining brightly through the dark velvet curtains in his room, and he slowly woke up from his dreams. As his eyes fluttered open, he felt a pang of pain in his heart. His dream had been of you, specifically of kissing your soft lips on a warm summers day by the Black Lake. He’s found that more recently than ever, his head is full of you, as is his heart. As he’s laying in his bed, he closes his eyes once more, trying to hold onto the bits of you he won’t ever experience. In this moment, thoughts of you more prevalent than ever before, he realizes he doesn’t have to not have you. Quickly, becoming fully awake, he springs out of his bed and walks quickly to his desk.

He pushes all the papers and miscellaneous items off the surface, and pulls out a paper and quill. He’s become fully aware of just how much he longs for you, and why should he not be able to tell his best friend that he’s in love with her? He’s been yearning for your love for as long as he can remember, and it has finally transformed him into a fool, giving him the confidence to express his love for you.

My dearest y/n,

I’ve found that you’ve been circling my thoughts more than usual lately, so much so that I can hardly call them my own anymore. I think about you all the time, yet I’ve been too much of a coward to say anything. But I’ve realized that I don’t want to wake up one day, either in the near future or in the years to come, and regret not trying, because of pride, or embarrassment, or just simple fear. I need to escape this torture chamber I’ve made for myself, where I must hold you at arms length though I know I wish for nothing more than to be wrapped in your embrace at all hours of the day. So I need you to tell me if it’s all in my head. That the lingering touches and longing stares are just simple delusions I’ve created in my mind. But if they’re not, and Merlin how I hope they’re not, I’m telling you here and now that I am in love with you y/n l/n, and I don’t think I can bear to be apart from you any longer. I also want to go ahead and apologize for telling others I loved you, that they knew before you did, but to be fair I think everyone knew before I did, too. You are my breath of fresh air, the light in all my darkness, my proof that life is pure and good and that happiness is achievable. I may not be a religious person, but if worshipping you was a religion I’d be its most devoted follower. And if my feelings are not reciprocated, please find a way to put this past you because I could not endure losing you as my best friend as well.

Yours Forever, Theo.

After pouring his heart out onto the page, he carefully placed it into an envelope, wrote your name on it, and walked to give it to owl. After sending it away, he walked back to his room, his anxiety suddenly crashing through. Thoughts swarmed his head: She doesn’t love me, I’ve ruined everything, I should stop it from reaching her. But his heart quickly stopped his brain from doing too much damage. You needed to know or else Theo would live in agony for the rest of his life. Upon reaching his room, he sat back at his desk and sent letters to each of the Slytherin boys, confessing what he’s done. He even slipped a copy of the letter to Mattheo, the only one he felt he could truly trust with that piece of his heart.

~~~

It had been two days since the letter had been sent. Had his owl reached you by now? Had you seen it? What were you thinking?

He was an utter mess, his mind swarming with questions and his body teeming with anxieties.

Soon it was 4 days, then 6, then a week, and then the last day of break rolled around the corner. Still he had received no response from you, perhaps you wished to talk in person? His heart hoped that that was the answer, and that the lack of a letter was not your rejection

~~~

You got onto the train just as it was about to take off, thanks to your missing jumper. The train was packed with kids saying their hellos and catching up, and with much effort you finally found Harry, Hermione, and Ron and got inside the compartment.

“Is it just me or is it crazier than usual?” You ask as you sit down.

“Definitely crazier, apparently Lavendar and Parvati got into a huge fight over break so everyone’s running around to hear about it.” Hermione explains as she hands you some candy she bought for you.

You say your thanks and continue talking with your friends when there’s a knock on your compartment.

“Hi Dean!” You say as you get up to slide open the door. You step out quickly to talk with the tall Gryffindor boy.

You have a friendly conversation, lasting about 10 minutes before entering the compartment again.

“What was that about.” Ron asks, before anyone else has the chance to.

“I saw him at Diagon Alley over the break and he asked me out. We hung out a couple times over the break.” You explain.

“Never would have expected that one.” Says Harry.

You raise you eyebrow at him, “and why would that be?”

“Just always assumed it would be Nott.” Harry says.

“I can’t just sit around like a fool waiting for him. He’s shown he just sees me as his best friend and the quicker I get over him the better.” You explain.

“But, he hasn’t shown you that he feels that way.” Explains Hermione, who is team Theo and y/n.

“He hasn’t shown me any differently. Wake me up when we get there I’m taking a nap.” You say, tired of constantly being reminded of your inability to be with Theo.

~~~

You arrive at the castle, and you make your way through the crowds to find your Slytherin friends. Just as you spot their group, Dean Thomas stops you.

“Hey, I’ve saved you a seat next to me, ok?” He asks, while his hands snaked around your waist.

“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” You say to him, giving him a small smile before turning your attention back to the group

-

“Merlin.” Theo says, causing the group to turn their heads. He had seen you walking around the crowd, and had turned away quickly when you had finally spotted them. He hadn’t seen you on the train and obviously hadn’t received your letter, so a part of him still hoped that you just wanted to talk to him in person. His anxiety began to take over him when he saw you walking towards him - would you tell him to fuck off? That he’s some sort of creep best friend? Or would you tell him that your heart beat for him? - that’s when he saw it. Dean Thomas gripping your waist and you sending him that sweet, tooth rotting smile his way.

“Oh shit.” Said Mattheo, who had been the first to spot the pair.

“Fuck that’s messed up.” Said Draco.

“I’m sorry mate.” Enzo said, patting Theo’s shoulder.

“How’d that even happen?” Asked Blaise, confused because he had never really seen you interact with Dean.

Mattheo sent him a look, warning him to drop it.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Mattheo said, gently grabbing Theo’s arm, pulling him away towards the dining room.

Theo could still feel his heart breaking, each shard falling to the pits of his stomach and stabbing him. He got his answer at least, not only did you not love him, you clearly didn’t care enough about him to even write back to him. And now, his God-sent Angel, was flaunting around with another man. How could the sweet girl he grew up with, the one that showed him that even salt could be beautiful, break his heart and crumble its pieces in your fist?

-

You were confused when you suddenly saw the group leave, making their way into the dining hall. You tried to get to them, but the crowds of people pushed you back until finally, you realized it was fruitless when the crowd began pushing you back towards the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. You decided to just sit down, and that you would try to find the group, Theo specifically because you missed him deeply, after dinner.

Dinner passed quickly after the tedious sorting ceremony. You talked with your friends and caught up with those around you, sneaking glances towards the Slytherin table as often as possible. Finally, Dumbledore dismissed the students and you all made your way towards your common rooms. Since it was the first day back, teachers were making sure students went directly to their rooms, leaving you no time to find the Slytherins. You decided it would be best for you to just wait until tomorrow, though you thought you might implode if you spent one more second away from Theo. A thought that made you feel instantly guilty when Dean appeared at your side.

~~

The next day rolled around, and still you hadn’t been able to get ahold of the Slytherins. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed they had been avoiding you. Finally, right before lunch you entered the library to grab some books when you saw the boys congregated in the back. You made your way over to them, carefully stepping around the stacks of books Madame Pince was reorganizing.

Once you finally reached the group, you went to announce your presence before Theo looked away from Draco (who was telling some boring anecdote) and looked down at you. Before you had any time to give him a smile or say your hello’s, he detached himself from the group and stormed right past you, through the stacks of books, and out the door. You stood shocked, facing the doors before finally turning back around to face the group. Your face was painted with an expression of confusion, which only deepened you received a nasty look from Enzo.

“We’ll be on our way now.” Said Enzo, walking past you with Blaise following close behind.

What..?” You finally managed to get out in your state of shock.

“Listen, y/n, just do us all a favor and leave us alone, especially Theo.” Mattheo said, in quite a rude tone before walking passed you. You stood confused and shocked at the interaction that had just unfolded. What had you done? Why were the boys mad at you? What had you done to Theo?

~~~

“I just have no idea what it could possibly be.” You said to Hermione, as you paced around your dorm room, recounting the story from earlier.

“Maybe it’s Dean. Maybe he’s just jealous.” Hermione offered.

“No, but I’ve had flings with guys before, and it’s not like he hasn’t been with girls before. It’s some thing deeper than that I know it.” You state, picking at your fingernails.

“And your sure you haven’t done anything? I mean you can’t think of one thing that could possibly have led to this?” Hermione asks, just as confused about the situation as you.

“Yes, I mean I literally cannot think of one thing that could have led to this. I would never hurt Theo, ever.” You say, plopping down on you bed, exasperated by the days events.

“I’m sorry y/n but I have absolutely no idea why they’re acting like this.” Hermione said, sad she couldn’t be of more help.

“It’s fine Hermione, it’s not your fault. I’m just going to go to bed.” You say, wanting this nightmare to end.

Could you really be losing your best friend to a reason unknown to you? Not only can you not be with the man that you love because he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, but now you may have just lost him completely. You fall asleep after hours of rolling back and forth contemplating your complicated relationship with Theo, and even in your unconscious state you cannot escape him because he peeps into your dreams.

~~~

The following week is agony. Your best friend won’t talk to you, let alone allow himself to be in the same room as you, the boys you’ve known since childhood give you nasty looks every chance they get, you have to entertain a relationship with Dean your not even sure you want to get into and your teachers are stuffing you with assignments. All you need is a good party with lots and lots of alcohol. Once Friday afternoon finally rolls around, you can feel a slight weight lift from your shoulders.

~~~

You walked into the Slytherin common room with Dean. Pansy, Daphne and some other Slytherin girls hosted the first party since break and seeing as you’ve been close with them since 1st year, you were clearly invited. You decided you were going to look your absolute best for this party: you’re makeup was flawless, your hair done to perfection, and the corset and low-waisted mini skirt you were wearing was doing your figure perfect justice.

“Fuck me.” Said Theo as he saw you walk in with Dean. “I’m going for a smoke outside.” He says.

“Need company?” Mattheo asks, not wanting to leave his vulnerable friend alone.

“Nah mate, thanks though.” He says, before walking outside quickly, before he can see anymore of you.

It had only been a few minutes, and you had already downed about 3 drinks. Once the alcohol started to hit, you detached yourself from Dean’s grip making up some excuse, before finding your way towards the Slytherin boys.

You spotted Mattheo sitting on the arm rest of a couch, sipping out of a plastic cup. You walked up to him, hips still swaying to the music.

“Where’s Theo?” You stated, once you reached him, your confidence booming.

“What do you want?” Mattheo asks, looking up at you with contempt.

“I need to find Theodore Nott. Where is he?” You state.

“You have some serious nerve.”

“What?” You ask, taken aback.

“Listen, y/n, you’re once of my closest friends, but Theo’s my best mate. And what you did, that shit’s just fucked up. Like seriously, I didn’t even know you were capable of that.” He says, disgust leaking out of his words.

“I’m sorry?” You say, confused by his words.

“Merlin y/n, I mean how dull can you be? You just expect everything to be all right after you not only completely ignore his letter where he fucking tells you he fucking loved you, but you turn up with some Levski (famous quidditch chaser) wannabe? I mean that’s some next level shit.” Mattheo says, getting up as he presents his rage induced speech.

“What letter?” You say, unaware of what he’s talking about.

Mattheo just stares at you, stuttering to get some words out.

“I said: what letter, Mattheo?” You say, much more sternly.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you never received it?” Mattheo asks, in shock.

“I don’t even know what I didn’t receive.” You say, exasperated.

“Just, wait right here, I’ll be right back!” Mattheo says, before running up the stairs towards the dorms.

You stand there in shock, your adrenaline pumping. Had you heard him right? Theo had sent you a letter confessing his love to you? How had you missed it?

“Here! Here! I have it!” Mattheo yelled, running towards you, waving a piece of parchment around in his hand.

“This. One.” Mattheo says, between breaths as he reaches you, handing you the parchment.

You rip it from his hands, reading it quickly yet thoroughly. Tears brim at your eyes, did he really feel this way? Merlin you felt so stupid, how could this have gotten lost?

“I-I…” you stuttered, unaware of what to say.

“Outside. He’s outside. Go!” Mattheo said, stilling catching his break.

“I- ok, thank you!” You say, before quickly running out the door, finding your way outside.

You see Theo sitting outside, smoking a cigarette. His face is illuminated by the moonlight and you swear in that moment that you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“Theo! Theodore!” You yell to him, as you run towards his figure. The grass was still wet from the rain that had fallen earlier that day, and the blades of grass began to stick to your calfs.

Theo looks at you, before getting up and attempting to escape you.

“Theo, wait, please! Mattheo just showed me the letter! I never got it!”

He stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned around.

“What?”

You finally catch up to him, breathing heavily.

“I never got your letter, I didn’t know about it until just now.” You explain, showing him the letter Mattheo had given you.

“What?” He said again, bewildered by what was going on.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, or your feelings. I just never got to read about them until tonight.”

“So, you’re telling me you never received it, at all?”

“No. I never got a letter.” You explain, your eyes searching his for some hint of how he was feeling.

“Did you read it?” Theo asked slowly.

“Yes, just now I did.”

“And…” Theo asked, hope returning to him and hitting him like a truck. He was filled with anxieties and he felts his stomach doing flips waiting for you to answer.

“Of course I’m in love with you, I thought I made it so obvious!”

“I thought I made it obvious!” Theo said with a laugh, all negative feelings and thoughts leaving his body and head at your confession.

“My heart quite literally beats for you, Teddy. I’ve never been so scared then when I thought I was losing you.”

“Really?” He asks. His eyes are lit up and he can barely contain his smile

“Yes you idiot!” You say, smiling wildly

“What about Dean?” He asks, afraid.

“Fuck Dean! It’s only ever been you, Teddy. It’ll always be you.” You say, staring up at him with nothing but love and devotion.

“Does this mean that you’ll have me?” He asks, grabbing your hands.

You nod vigorously, unable to get any words out as tears of happiness are threatening to spill if you utter a single word.

And with that, Theo dips down and kisses you. The kiss is deep and passionate. You two explore each others mouths, and your hands explore each others body. You taste every bit of each other, and feel each others hair, faces, arms, waists, chests, in ways that you’ve never felt before. You take this chance to make up for all the lost time you’ve spent pining for each other in secret. The kiss is hungry, yet gentle and Theo holds you close, as if if he doesn’t hold you as tightly as possible you’ll slip away from him. After a few minutes he pulls away, touching your forehead to his and holding your face in his hands.

“I’m so so sorry for believing the worst in you. I was just in so much pain. Ignoring you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done” He states, referring to the week prior.

“It’s ok, Teddy. Let’s not worry about that now.” You say, causing his lips to come crashing down on yours again.

[jellieland]

This is somewhat inspired by some of the fics @theminecraftbee has written.

---

Two figures watch, from a nebulous nowhere, as Scar stands, alone, in the remains of his destroyed shop.

"I'm sorry," he says, mournfully, to no one.

"You Know," says the first figure, "I Really Wasn't Convinced When You Pitched This One."

Scar does not react. He cannot hear them.

"Yes," says the second, with an air of long-suffering patience. "I Do Know. You Were Very Vocal About It."

"...I really wanted to try and make some friends, this time." Scar, simultaneously right in front of them and a great distance away, sighs and looks up at the sky. "Oh, well. Nothing to be done about it now!"

"I Have Come Around To It," says the first.

"Good," says the second. "I Knew You Would."

They watch Scar start to sort through the mess.

"They Forget They Have A Choice," says the first. "It Is Fascinating."

They move on.

The move on to ash.

Skizz and Tango and Bigb stand right in the thick of it, quiet.

"You try to do one nice thing," says Skizz.

His hands curl into fists. He glares at the smoldering remains of the heart in front of him.

"You try to do ONE nice thing!" he yells, and punches one of the last remaining bits of wood.

Brittle from the fire, it breaks.

"Yeah, well! I guess this is why we don't," says Tango, resigned.

"It was always gonna happen eventually," says Bigb, voice level.

"They Always Try," says the first. "They Always Keep Trying."

"Yes," says the second. "They Chase Each Other In Circles Until All Of Them Are Dead. They Give Themselves Their Own Tasks."

"That Is Not What I Meant," says the first. "But That Is Also True."

They watch the three members of the Heart Foundation stand, for a while, in silence.

And they move on.

They move over to the mesa.

Martyn is standing inside his house, that used to be Jimmy's house too, facing the three chests on the wall labelled "TIMMY", "MUMBO" and "MARTYN".

He is talking animatedly, and gesturing. "-and I kept trying to get them to follow me there, but nobody was taking the bait. Honestly, you guys would've laughed at me. But it-"

They let the rambling fade into the background.

"A Good Dog," says the first.

"Yes," says the second. "He Does As He Is Told."

"-and I've honestly been feeling a bit left out today, isn't that funny? But- Bdubs said, he said he would join me next week, so-"

They move on.

They move to the cobblestone castle, in the side of the hill.

Grian is cooing over a small magma cube named Etho's Dishwasher.

Cleo and Etho are leaning against the staircase watching him.

"Are you both alright?" asks Cleo.

"Sure, I'm fine," says Etho.

"Me?" says Grian, turning around. "Oh, I'm good, I was being a total coward. I just hung around at the top of that tower by the Secret Keeper for ages and none of them ever thought to look up."

"Really?" asks Cleo, amused. "Some of them I would expect that of, but I'd think Gem would be a bit more on the ball."

"Well, apparently not," says Grian.

He turns back to the magma cube, and they settle into quiet.

"I Would Have Expected More Of The Alliances To Have Fallen Apart, By Now," says the first.

"Loyalty Is At Its Most Interesting When It Is Stretched," says the second. "These Three Know It Will Never Last. They Know That All Of Them Are Aware Of This. That Is Why They Are Still Here. They Know How Much They Can Care Without It Being A Lie. And Then Privately, They Care More Than That Anyway."

Eventually, Etho sighs. He looks tired.

He glances from Cleo, to Grian, and back, and after a moment of hesitation, speaks. "I, uh. I'm glad you two survived." He shifts awkwardly, and continues before they can respond. "I thought they were going to try and make me kill you, at one point, and- Grian, I don't know if you know this, but Cleo is scary when she's getting revenge. I did not want to have to worry about that."

Cleo laughs, slightly, and gives Etho a look of the deepest affection. "Well, I did die, is the thing, so thanks for reminding me of that."

"No, no, you knew what I meant! See, Grian? See what it's like?"

"Uh huh," says Grian, raising an eyebrow. "Well, thanks for not killing us."

Cleo frowns at him, suddenly curious. "Grian?" they ask. "Are you the only one who didn't die today?"

Grian opens his mouth, then stops to consider it.

"Or- no, wait. Martyn." says Cleo. "Well. Well done either way."

They watch the trio for a little longer, and then they move on.

They move to Scott.

He is alone, in a forest somewhere.

He is leant up against a cliff face, staring down at the floor.

"None Of Them Even Died, This Time," says the first. "Not Permanently."

"No," says the second. "It Was Controlled. Directed. There To Even The Playing Field. We Can Just Ask Them To Do That, Now, And They Will."

Scott draws his knees up to his chest, and rests his head on his arms.

He doesn't move, or shout, or cry.

He just stays there, quiet.

Eventually, they move on.

They move to the Secret Keeper.

Gem is standing there.

She is looking at it.

"If She Had Decided To Fail At The Start," says the first, "She Most Likely Would Have Lived. She Lost So Much More, Taking Things From Other People, Than The Nothing She Would Have Lost In Failure."

"Yes," says the second. "That Is My Favourite Part."

They watch her.

"Anyway," says the second, "She Would Not Do That."

"She Wouldn't?" asks the first.

"No," says the second. "She Understands Why It Is My Favourite Part."

Gem smiles.

"Thank you!" she says to the Secret Keeper. "That was a lot of fun!"

"You Are Welcome," says the second.

Blood on her hands, Gem turns and leaves, grin as bright as the sun.

They watch her go.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Prompt #15 with Megumi? Rivals to lovers with happy ending please ♥️

There you go, I'm so so sorry this took so long <3 I hope you still enjoy it, I find it quite hard to write enemies to lovers under 5000 words :D

Opposites attract

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Synopsis: Megumi hated you the moment you stepped into Jujutsu High for the first time. As time flies, he always sees himself confronted with you on missions. However, one of these missions makes him rethink his feelings towards you

Warnings: Megumi is an ass from time to time, language

„Why am I here, blindworm?“

There you sit, sloughing on your chair at the classroom, feet stretched out in front of you. Damn, you were taking the best nap of your life when your stupid sensei came storming in and woke you up rudely. He surely wants to send you on another mission – hopefully alone. If you have to work with one of these losers again, you break off.

Especially him.

God, you truly hated Megumi Fushiguro. His quiet way, tall figure and calculating personality. He is quite the opposite of your outspoken, confident and risky self. Maybe that’s why you two don’t get along at all. And maybe that’s the reason why you always end up together. Hopefully not today…

“As charming as ever, I like that. I have a mission for you, (y/n)!”, Gojo cries out in joy.

“Again? I just returned from one. Remember?”

“I remember that you wiped the floor with Megumi’s ass, even though that wasn’t exactly the task”, he replies dryly.

“Yeah, that was fun.”

Both you and Megumi are grade 2 sorcerers while being in your first school year, which means that you can basically carry out missions alone but are happily sent together by Gojo for more complicated matters – much to your chagrin and probably his. So whenever you get the chance to give Megumi a hard time you gladly seize the opportunity.

“Don’t be so rough, I know you have a sweet spot for charming boys like him.”

Oh, you know all too well that your sensei just wants to get on your nerves. But as soon as he mentions positive feelings towards a coward like Megumi, you can’t help but explode.

“Shut up, ew! I have no sweet spot for anybody!”

“Yeah, everyone here knows that”, Megumi’s low voice mumbles behind you.

“You.”

Your voice is shaking in venom while the vein on your forehead threatens to pop out any minute.

“What the hell is that loser doing here?”, you groan, face completely twisted in annoyance.

You just knew it. Seems like it’s Satoru’s favorite job to annoy the shit out of you by always putting the two of you together.

“Come on, give me Panda. Or what about Maki? Some girl-power would be nice. But not that”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“God, you’re so full of yourself. Remember the last time when I saved your puny figure from getting eaten alive by that curse? You’re probably the worst and cruelest person I’ve ever met”, Megumi barks back in annoyance.

“I don’t mind being the villain in your story because you’re a clown in mine, Fushiguro.”

“That was the nicest conversation you two had in a long time, great! Now let’s get to work, I’m sure you’re doing just fine my children!”, Gojo interrupts while hugging you both.

Is there a way out of this madness? Maybe you can pretend you’re sick, too weak to go on a mission. But that’s not your standard and you know that. Giving Megumi the satisfaction of staying at home while he gets beaten up isn’t an option.

“Maybe I’m lucky and you die on me”, you mumble under your breath, storming out of the room faster than Megumi can follow past Yuji who just stares at you in awe.

God, Megumi hates you so much. How can a person be so full of herself? Yes, your abilities are quite outstanding, your curse technique is very good for being a first class student and to be honest you are actually pretty handsome, but the problem is that you are very aware of those facts. And you make no bones rubbing that into everyone’s face – especially his. His stolen glance is set on your back. You do have a really nice figure, feminine curves even though you train several hours a day. Yes, really attractive.

He shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell is he thinking? You are the crappiest person he knows, everything about you is disgusting, he hates you!

“Wow, they really hate each other”, Yuji comments, eyes following the two of you in disbelief.

“No, they don’t. Trust me, this is something completely different. And I love nothing more than teasing that out”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.

______________________________________________________________

“Stop breathing so loud, Fushiguro.”

Kiyotaka can’t help but glance at you in the rearview mirror, too stunned to speak by your nonsensical words. Why does Gojo keep sending the two of you on missions together? The air in the car is so thick that it could be sliced by a katana.

“Rot in hell, (y/n).”

He never heard such cruel words come out of Megumi’s mouth except when you are around.

“I’m already there, you’re here after all”, you bark back.

“Stop fighting you two, we’re almost there.”

Your gaze wanders around the rainy area. Somehow he’s right, you should focus on your mission. The fact that two of you were sent here can only mean that it’s going to get ugly. Once again it’s about a school, once again a lot of young people are dying. You need to stop this madness.

“There you are, I’ll create the curtain now. Good look you two.”

“Skilled people don’t need luck, but maybe it’ll help you Megumi.”

His blood boils in anger, just a glimpse into your stupid pretty faces challenges his self-control all over. Who do you think you are?

“What’s wrong with you? Can you just pull yourself together until we ended this mission? I hate you too, but now we have to work”, Megumi smacks into your direction.

“Always the good boy, such a role model! I want to puke in your face, it makes me fucking sick!”, you challenge him, watching as his facial expression darkens with every word.

“You.”

With a swift motion, you’re trapped against the wall by his body. Your sharp and fast breath hangs in the thick air between you two, the way he pins your wrists against the brick wall makes…sparks fly. You can’t help but notice his striking blue eyes when he glares down at you, the warmth that radiates from his body along with his delicious scent. Fuck, what is wrong with you? Why is your face heating up under his gaze, why does it feel so…good to feel his frame pressed against your own? His lips suddenly look so inviting, so warm and soft. But no, you hate him, you hate Megumi since you first met, he is everything you despise reincarnated in one person. God, he annoys you so badly, you need to get out of his grip, you need to-

“Stop it. I’m serious”, he gasps against your face, lips so close to your own that you can feel his breath brush against your now prickly skin.

Fuck, you see stars. His grip around your wrist tightens, his face is getting closer to yours. Will he…? No, that’s impossible, Megumi hates you with all his heart, he told you over and over again. And you hate him too since the moment you first laid your eyes on him. But why…why do you feel the urge to press your lips against his?

“Or what?”

Your voice is suddenly so soft and vulnerable. God, you look so adorable with that pink blush creeping up your cheeks, lips parted and doe eyes wide open. That desire, that urge to brush his lips against yours seems to become unbearable. Just once, just this one damn time. Just to prove to himself how disgusting you are.

Boom.

It happens faster than any of you can react. The wall behind you explodes and buries you under its rubble.

You are instantly greeted by scorching pain consuming your whole body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood streams down your face like a waterfall, your right leg aches in the most disgusting way imaginable.

“Fuck, are you alright (y/n)?”, Megumi screams, eyes widen in horror.

So much blood. Your whole body seems to be covered in crimson. Even though you’re not screaming or even groaning, he can clearly see the shock creeping up your eyes when realization hits you. But he has to focus on that curse. Yes, he needs to take care of that before he can help you.

You desperately try to free yourself from the debris that threatens to crush your body while Megumi fights off the curse that seems to be responsible for all of this. As usual, his facial expression is dead serious while his little shikigami work for him.

“How bad is it?”, he questions, eyes focused on the monster in front of him.

Your leg feels like burning alive, a little glance at your body is enough for you to realize that you are not well. Maybe even so critical that time is running out for you.

“It’s bad”, you hiss back while pressing your trembling hand against the gash in your thigh.

A few broken ribs, a laceration on the head, here and there some open wounds and abrasions – nothing too serious, you’ll get over that. But the giant gash in your thigh is definitely something else. Your leg was almost completely pierced by an iron rod. Surely that wouldn’t be a problem either if the bar was still in you, but it isn’t. And that’s why you’re bleeding out at the moment.

Finally that curse is gone. Just a look at you is enough to make Megumi turn pale in an instant. You’re sitting in a pool of your own blood, lids hanging heavy in your eyes. His heart skips a beat when realization hits him like a wall. You could die right here if he doesn’t do anything.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here”, he mumbles, hands on their way to grab your body.

“I don’t need your help, Fushiguro”, you growl at him.

“Are you sure? Cause it sure does look like it”, Megumi replies dryly and begins to inspect your wounds.

“If even half of that blood is yours you need to get out of here right now. I’m calling Gojo-sensei.”

“Everything hurts”, you blur out.

The sight of your terrified eyes makes Megumi’s heart sink in his chest. He has never seen you like this. But what’s even worse is the fact that he is so damn worried about you, that the thought of losing you alone makes his breath hitch.

“Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”

His voice sounds so soft, echoes as sweet as honey in your ear.

“Megumi.”

His strong arms free you from the rest of the rubble above you and lift your numb body off the ground with ease. Your vision slowly but surely begins to get blurry, it gets so hard to keep your tired eyes open.

“What is it, (y/n)?”, he softly asks while maneuvering his shikigami around in order to find the other curses that have to be here.

“I don’t remember a moment where you were so kind to me”, you purr.

“Well, that’s because there wasn’t a single moment where you were so kind to me”, he remarks with a small smile.

“I h-have to say…That…That you’re not…t-that bad.”

Your words are a true mess, so quiet that he has to focus on your low voice in order to understand. But oh you look so lovely, wearing a soft smile on your lips and that tender gleam in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. Over and over, he told himself that he truly hates you, that you are an evil person that doesn’t deserve his affection. Always keen to hide his stolen glances and the way your sight makes him hold his breath. Your body, your brain, your everything. But seeing you like this, vulnerable laying in his hands, he can’t help but admire you. Admire a woman this strong and independent, a woman who never fears anything.

“You’re pretty okay too I guess”, he replies, hands wrapped tighter around your sagging body.

“How about staying awake for a little longer? I bet you can’t make it until we’re back at Jujutsu High.”

“I bet I will, asshole.”

____________________________________________________________

“She kept bugging me about telling you that she stayed awake to the end. And that you’re a loser.”

“So she’s fine, that’s great!”, Gojo proclaims and pads Megumi’s shoulder.

It was a close call, he knows it. And that sweet seconds just before the wall behind your back shattered…What was that? Affection? No, no, no. That’s simply not possible. You are the worst person walking on this planet. The thought of you alone makes his gut twist in disgust and heats up his face. You drive him crazy like no other. And the fact that you almost died and were a decent person for one second won’t change that.

“Should have left her there. I’m leaving”, Megumi mumbles and turns away.

Why was he here anyway? Shoko already stitched him up a few hours ago, he has no business being in the hospital wing. “Didn’t you want to visit her, Megumi-chan?”

“I would rather train with you than seeing her. Why would I care about her well-being?”, he remarks quickly.

Gojo and Shoko watch him as he storms out.

“Do they really think they hate each other?”

“Yup”, Gojo confirms.

The fresh air of the evening hits his face with full force. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with him? Why is he feeling this way? He shouldn’t be worried about your well-being, he shouldn’t care at all about the fact that you are injured. After all, you put yourself in that situation. God, he just hates you so much. In his world, there’s no place for positive feelings towards you. But still… He stops in his tracks, eyes glued to the ground.

Why does he want to turn around, to let his feet carry him into the hospital room, to sit beside you? What is it that urges him to at least check on you? Pictures of you flood his mind. Your breathtaking smile, the stunning glimmer in your eyes, the confidence that’s dripping from your sweet voice. Why do you have to be so damn perfect and why the hell is his heart beating so fast by the thought of it alone?

As if in trance, he begins to walk back into the direction of the hospital wing, back where you are. He has to prove to himself how much he hates you just one more time. Just once…

He quietly sneaks past the room where he hears Shoko and Gojo still talking. If you have to stay for the night, you have to be down the corridor on the right. Over and over, he looks over his shoulder. If someone catches him sneaking up on you he might need to burry himself alive. All the jokes, the constant teasing from Gojo about you and him really get on his nerves. Why can’t they see that he fucking hates you?

There it is, the door to you. As noiseless as possible he opens it and gets immediately greeted by your gaze. You almost look surprised when he closes the door behind him again and awkwardly stands in the middle of the room, simply staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you here”, you comment dryly.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on coming either.”

“Did Shoko tell you that I stayed awake?”

“Sure.”

“And that you’re a loser?”

He gifts you with his most annoyed look.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Listen, there’s something I wanted to tell you in person…”, you begin while nervously fumbling with your fingers.

This catches Megumi off guard. You always know what to say or react. How is it possible that you are jumpy? And to top it off, because of him?

“Why did you save me, Megumi?”

What on earth is going on? He scratches the back of his head, too stunned to speak. Are you serious?

“Just because you think I’m the bad guy doesn’t mean I am a bad guy, y’know”, he mumbles.

You let his words sink in, gaze never leaving his face. The last hours really showed you that Megumi isn’t as bad as you always tried to make yourself believe. He saved you despite all the things you said to him without even blinking, risking his own life to save yours. Maybe…maybe it isn’t even hatred you feel towards him.

But something completely different.

“I will never say this again but…I think you’re my favorite enemy”, you confess quietly with a small smile.

Megumi’s heart stops beating for a second, your sweet words triggering feelings in him he tried so hard to avoid. God, how many nights did he tell himself that you are no good, that he just has to hate you with all his heart? But…Is he really hating you though?

“I can probably give that back”, he mumbles.

For once in his life, Megumi sees nothing but your striking beauty and brain when his gaze meets yours. Maybe, just maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought you are. But why does he feel so strongly towards you? What the hell is wrong with his heart?

“Let me kiss you. Just once. Just to prove myself that I hate you”, he blurts out.

You hold your breath, dopamine, adrenalin and who knows what other hormones pump through your veins and leave you dizzy for a second. You didn’t just hallucinate him saying that, right? The sincerity in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

With fast steps he crosses the room, now standing in front of you. And then he bends down to your bed, grabs your face and kisses you so passionately that you forget how to breathe for a moment. Your tongue intertwines with his, dancing in the most delicate way while you hold onto his strong shoulders for support. Is this really happening or are you dreaming again? Just a few hours ago, you spat venom at him like every other month before. But this…This feels so much better than constantly insulting him and to pretend that you hate him with all your heart. You realize with all clarity of your intense kiss that you probably never really hated him. No, this feeling his completely different from disgust.  

He breaks away from you, panting hard just like you. Your glossy eyes look up to him, hands still resting against his shoulders.

“Yes, I do. I absolutely hate you”, he breathes out.

“I hate you too”, you moan before pulling him close with all force for another passionate kiss.

Maybe, just maybe Megumi Fushiguro isn’t so bad after all.

But just maybe.

_____________________________________________________________

Bonus:

“Oh, (y/n)! Are you feeling any better?”, Yuji shouts at you while waving you over.

“OMG, are you seeing this. Am I dreaming?”, Nobara mutters next to him, completely mesmerized by the sight of you and Megumi.

Are those shikigami? Your hand is intertwined with Megumi’s, the both of you walking next to each other and…smile? Since when exactly are you smiling at Fushiguro?

“What do you mean?...Wait, when the hell did this happen?”

“Megumi, I thought you hate (y/n)!”

“Would you two mind to stop staring at us like that? (y/n) and I are kind of a thing now”, Megumi explains briefly while stopping in front of both of his friends.

“Did he force you into this, (y/n)?”, Nobara whispers in your ear.

You let out a heartfelt laughter, the confusion of your friends matching with your own.

“This might be the worst decision I ever made, but let’s see how it all works out.”

Megumi gives you a reproachful look and squeezes your hand firmer. Oh, even in a relationship, there will always be that small part of him that hates you.

Along with the much bigger part that loves you with all his heart.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

I would love to see some TFA swindle soft vore with a Gn!human <3

Thanks for the request, anon! Here it is! TFA Swindle is so silly, I love how funky he looks. Just a fun salesman who definitely has never broken any laws :D

Deal Or No Deal

Pairing: TFA Swindle x Gn!human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 3230

Summary: After accepting a job as an errand runner for a local arms dealer, you are tasked with sneaking into a warehouse located in an old Detroit harbor freight yard and stealing a piece of Decepticon weaponry. Things go wrong when a certain money-hungry mech catches you red-handed and decides he is in charge of you’re fate.

You hate your job.

  “It’ll be quick and easy.” You quietly hype yourself up as you walk past various decrepit buildings, your steps bouncing off of their walls and echoing around you, creating an ominous phenomenon in which it sounds like someone is following in your wake. Too many times you’ve glanced back just to make sure your imagination was simply running wild and you were truly alone.

  “Just get in, find the piece, and get out.” You reach into your pants pocket and pull out the crumpled map of the freight yard. This part of the harbor is an unsavory neighborhood, too dated to be put to use, yet too expensive to gut and start anew. Thus, it’s trapped in a standstill, with local black market meetings happening frequently and without a hitch. Illegal materials are typically stored here too, due to the perfect real estate; not even the police are aware of how important this place really is.

  Tonight, you will be finding one of those exact materials…and you will be stealing it.

  “No problem. It’s no problem.” You study the map one last time, then tuck it away. “Find the prize. Get it to the boss. Easy. It’ll be fine.”

  You aren’t a thief. Well, you weren’t a thief until now. But you're low on cash, and the threat of going broke is just too high. You don’t want to be out on the streets, so you went down a rough road: you’ve become an errand runner for hire. A local arms dealer wants you to smuggle an extremely powerful weapon out of the freight yard and into his hands. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he had told you. “A cannon left behind by those Cybertronian-whatevers. It’s alien. And I want it.”

  The amount of money he offered to pay you was too much for you to resist. So here you are, against your better judgment, robbing one horrible person for the benefit of another.

  Well, you don’t know if this other person you're stealing from is horrible. The only information given to you about them was where they keep their goods. But judging from the fact that they’re directly contributing to Detroit’s crime rate, you have to assume they’re pretty terrible.

  And so am I. You wince when you think about it. I’m no better. I’m a coward who can’t even land a real job.

  No time to pity yourself. You chose this profession. There’s no chance for you to go back on it. At least after you complete this job, maybe you can return to some semblance of a normal life…if you aren’t arrested and sent to prison, that is.

  The warehouse you are looking for sits right on the edge of the harbor. It’s massive, with shoddy wooden walls riddled with graffiti and sheets of cheap metal nailed to cover up holes. Standing before it now, you feel a shiver go down your spine. Definitely the creepiest place in Detroit, this building is.

  Drawing in a deep breath, you head for the large sliding doors. One of them is just barely open. It’s enough space for you to slip through.

  Inside, it’s dark. There are lights above, but there is no sign of a switch, and even if there was, you doubt they’d turn on. The warehouse is filled with giant boxes: crate after crate stacked upon each other, some of them reaching so high, you have to wonder just who the hell is in charge of this operation. It’s quiet. You remain still, holding your breath to listen for any signs of activity, like guards or people bringing in recent shipments.

  Nothing.

  Somehow, that causes you to be on edge even more.

  You really, really hate your job.

  According to your employer, the Cybertronian weapon is stored in a special crate marked with a Decepticon insignia. It’s one of a kind, so it should be relatively easy to find. You just have to hope it can be reached. As you tread lightly through the warehouse and peer up at the towers of storage, you're suddenly afraid you might have your first experience with using a forklift tonight.

  Thankfully, luck seems to be on your side. You come across the crate quickly; it’s set up in the corner of the building, nestled between other boxes so it can be obscured. You only spot it because you know what you're looking for. The Decepticon symbol peeks out at you revealingly, like it wants to be found.

  Jackpot, you think. Pushing the other boxes away, you grab your crowbar from your belt and wedge it between the crate’s cover.

  For a moment, you pause. A nervous idea of this possibly being a trap crosses your mind, but then you dismiss it. There’s no way anyone could have known you were coming. You and your boss were alone that night when you discussed this plan. Grunting, you force the crate open. Wood cracks as the cover springs up. Excitement fills you when you eagerly peek inside.

  Your heart drops.

  There’s nothing there. It’s empty.

  “Nononono.” You frantically sift your hands through the packing peanuts, but to no avail. The crate is devoid of anything but styrofoam.

  You stumble back dazedly and press your hand to your head. This is a trap. Someone did know you were coming. But how? And who?

  Low, steady thumping answers you.

  It sounds like footsteps. No, they are footsteps. Heavy, boot-like pounding against the floor is accompanied by a large shadow casting over you. Suddenly, the warehouse lights blaze on. You have to shield your eyes to avoid earning a headache.

  “Well, well, well,” a voice says. “What do we have here?”

  You blink and lower your hands. Standing in front of you, towering above the stacks of crates, is a giant robot with dull golden armor and purple eyes. He gives you an easygoing smile and speaks with the same smooth voice you heard before. “And why might you be here, little mouse?”

  You gape at him with no words you can say. The robot chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “Didn’t find what you were looking for?” He inclines his head to the crate. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s not your fault. I knew your boss was going to make a move for the cannon way before he decided to send you for it.”

  “I-I-uh-” you stammer.

  “Yes?” he asks.

  “G-Giant…r-robot.”

  His smile widens and he raises a brow. “That’s what I am. The proper term would be Cybertronian, though.”

  “Y-You're one of them.” Your eyes flicker to the scowling symbol on his chest. “You're a Decepticon.”

  “Technically, yes. However, I consider myself a Decepticon in name only. I wear this badge as a sign of partnership with my best customers.”

  “Customers?” you echo.

  “Right. Guess I should introduce myself.” The mech extends his arms in an open greeting. “The name’s Swindle. I run a tight business of weapons selling, weapons building, weapons trading…basically, if you want something that’ll make your enemies go boom, I’m the guy you want to call. And you, little mouse, are currently stealing from me.”

  You look around you. “Wait. So this…all of this…is yours?”

  “Yup. It’s quite the haul, isn’t it? This loot is going to be spread all across Detroit to different buyers, Cybertronian or not. I don’t discriminate, you see. If you have the means to pay for it, I can get it for you. Earth is a violent place, little mouse. And where there’s violence, there’s money to be made.”

  A compartment slides open from his chest. He reaches into it and pulls out a large gray cannon with the Decepticon coat of arms on its side. “This is what you came here for, right?” Swindle says. “Your boss wants it so he can blast a bunch of banks open.”

  You swallow hard and nod.

  “Let me ask you this.” He drops the cannon back in. The compartment closes, and he crouches down to get more on your level. “Do you think I like it when people steal from me?”

  “I-I didn’t steal from you!” you answer.

  “You were going to.”

  “But I didn’t!”

  “You had the intention, and that counts.” He shrugs. “I’m what you humans call a cool cat, kid. I do business and I go on with my life. But when I find little mice snooping around my warehouse, trying to take things that don’t belong to them…” His gaze darkens and he bares his teeth. “I decide it’s time to show my claws.”

  You take a nervous step back. “I-I’m sorry! I really am! But I had no choice! I-I need this job! I need the money!”

  For a moment, he simply studies you. Then he leans back into the calm attitude from before, and grins. “Hm. What if I were to offer you a deal?”

  It takes you a moment to register what he just said. “A deal?” you say. “Why would you want to make a deal with me? I just tried stealing from you!”

  “I know. Trust me, I’m not letting you off the hook. But I find myself feeling bad for you, little mouse. You're just someone who’s down on your luck and trying to get back on your feet. I appreciate that. And…I see potential in you.”

  “…Potential?”

  His eyes sparkle with dangerous intent. “Yes. Potential. You're small. Quick. You can sniff things out and have a great sense of direction while doing it. I could use someone like you. A stealthy little robber who can sneak in and get things that a giant lumbering robot can’t. Do you see where I’m going with this?” He pokes you gently in the ribs. You yelp and jump back. “I’m offering you a job.”

  You rub your side and glare at him. “I already have a job.”

  “Correction. You had a job.” Swindle tilts his head. “If you go back to your boss empty-handed, you’ll suffer for it. I know how he works, and trust me, what he does to those who fail isn’t pretty. But me? I’m fair. I’m lenient. Your work hours won’t kill you, and I’m not going to dump your dead body into the lake if something goes sour. This is an opportunity for you. What do you say?” He holds his hand out. “Do we have a deal?”

  You eye his hand apprehensively, then take another step back. “No. I’m done with this. I never wanted to be a thief. I’m not working for a giant robot who can kill me at any chance.”

  He throws his hands up, exasperated. “Did you not hear a word I just said?”

  “I don’t care what you said!” You turn on your heel and march away. “What my boss does to me doesn’t matter anymore! I’m not going through with this sort of life!”

  Swindle sighs, and his tone hardens. “Ah, geez, you're going to make me be the bad guy, huh. Alright, fine, I can be the bad guy.”

  You let out a strangled shriek when you are unexpectedly yanked into the air. Swindle unceremoniously lifts you up by the back of your shirt, bringing you close to his face. “Listen, mouse,” he growls. “You have two options to choose tonight: either you agree to work for me, or I can sell you to other people who are worse than your boss. You want to end up collared and turned into a Decepticon’s pet?”

  You stop your desperate struggle to stare at him in horror. “Y-You wouldn’t do that!”

  “Wouldn’t I? I’m a daytrader, little one. I may specialize in weapons, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take up animal handling once in a while.” He shakes you a little, earning a cry from you. “So, what’s it going to be? This is a limited time offer, so you better make up your mind while it lasts.”

  You stare at him, and you know he’s being completely serious. You have no option here except to agree to his terms. A pit forms in your stomach with roots of anxiety spreading through you, thriving on your fear. He notices how you’ve begun to shake, and grins with the knowledge that he has you.

He holds his hand out to you once more. “I’ll ask again. Do we have a deal?”

  You hesitate…then reluctantly extend your own hand to him. He takes your palm between his index finger and thumb and shakes it gently. “There.” Swindle looks satisfied. “Was that so hard? You’ve made the right choice, little mouse. Now, for your punishment.”

  “Wait, what?” You yank your hand back. “Punishment? What punishment!?”

  “The punishment.” He says this like it’s common knowledge. “You tried to steal from me. I just can’t let that go. What kind of message would I be spreading to the competition if they were to know I’m too soft with thieves?”

  “But I accepted your terms! I work for you now! What more could you want from me?”

  He tsks and shakes his head. “This has nothing to do with the deal, little mouse. This has everything to do with the fact that your old boss thinks I’m someone he can send his cronies to steal from.” He lifts you higher, and his gaze softens, only for a moment. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. You're still a greenie in the trade, so there’s no reason to draw this out. Just relax and everything will be fine.”

  You squirm and clutch at the fingers holding you, confused. “What are you-?”

  He opens his mouth. You find yourself staring down into the abyss of his throat, pulsing with a gentle purple light. Then your eyes widen and your heart crashes when he begins lowering you towards it.

  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” you yell while you squirm, kick, flail, do anything you can to fight back against what you realize is happening. “PUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWN!”

  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the gaping jaws below you. Swindle’s tongue shifts with excitement and anticipation. The sight makes you scream until you think your own throat might bleed.

  The more you fight, the faster Swindle lowers you. You curse and threaten, so terrified that you aren’t even aware of what you are saying at this point, fresh tears pouring down your face.

“SWINDLE, PLEASE, DON’T-!”

  You break into a scream when he drops you.

  The impact is softer than what you brace for, and you fall onto his tongue with an “Oof.” For a moment, you lay there, little cries coming out with your rapid-tempo breaths, heart beating so hard you think you may have a heart attack.

  And then you come to your senses, and realize where you are.

  You are in Swindle’s mouth.

  You scramble forward, moving to throw yourself out of the sticky deathtrap, but it is too late; the robot’s teeth click closed, cutting you off from the outside world. “Nonono!” You bang your fists frantically on them. “Please, let me out! I don’t want to die! P-Please don’t do this!”

  Hot air wafts over your body when Swindle chuckles. The muscle beneath you moves and begins to slowly push you backwards. Thick globs of saliva suck at your legs as you are forced back towards his throat.

  “No, stop!” You claw at his tongue, trying everything in your power to prevent yourself from going down. The giant tilts his head back.

  With a loud squelching gulp, Swindle swallows, and you are sucked into his esophagus, the powerful muscles pulling you down.

  So many things happen at once. Your body is massaged from all sides by the throat, leaving you all but completely immobile. The sound of Swindle’s internal workings is thunder in your ears, so loud that you can’t even hear yourself think.

  The most terrifying noise, however, is the growling and gurgling coming from below. An ominous reminder of where you are ultimately going to end up.

  You are squeezed into the stomach and fall into the squishy chamber that, as soon as it is aware of your presence, closes in. From all sides you are massaged and kneaded by thick, muscular walls of synthetic organ that rubs saliva and fluid all over you. You push at the walls with a terrified air of desperation, your lungs constricting like you can’t breathe. “Let me out!” you beg your captor. “Please, I don’t want this!”

  Swindle rumbles out another chuckle that sounds so much deeper now that you are in here. The walls quiver, laughing right along with him. “I don’t care what you want, little mouse. I’m your boss now, and I want you to sit in there and think about what you’ve done.”

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for trying to steal from you! Just please, spit me up! I-I don’t want to die!” Your voice breaks. The situation is truly hopeless now.

  Swindle groans. “Geez, how many times do I have to tell you, kid? You're not going to die. Do you feel any acid in there? Is your skin melting off of your bones?”

  You pause and look at your arms. The glow of the mech’s biolights gives you a dim image of your limbs: sticky and slimy…but not in any pain, and certainly no terrible wounds visible.

  “…No,” you mumble in disbelief.

  Swindle speaks to you like a parent does with their child. “See? You're in no pain. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You're safe. Now relax and settle down.”

  “If I’m safe, then why did you decide to eat me?!”

“I already said this. You need to learn a lesson. A few hours in there will teach you not to steal from others…well, at least, not to steal from me. You’ll be doing plenty of theft in the future. But I’ll pay you for it, and you’ll never have to worry about going hungry or living on the streets ever again.”

  Your fear begins to diminish, and it’s replaced with indignation. “Of all the ways to teach me a lesson, it had to be like this?”

  The stomach shakes boisterously when Swindle laughs. “Sorry, kid. I had to scare the crap out of you somehow so you’d learn. You need to know your place in this profession.” He presses his hands right over where you are tucked inside and gives you a little squeeeze. “Now sit tight and relax for me, okay? I’ll let you out in a few hours. You're safe.”

  You grumble and give the stomach walls a disgruntled shove. The organ flexes to hug you, forcing you to sink into the warmth. Now that you’ve calmed down, you find that it’s actually…kind of nice in here. The constant massaging feels good on your exhausted body. The soft violet glow is soothing to your eyes. And though you hate to allow yourself, because you're still rather pissed off with him…you finally relax.

  “There you go,” he murmurs. “That’s right. Nice and warm.” The walls ripple when he gives his abdomen a pat. “You know, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  You give in and release a soft breath. You’ve gotten yourself into quite the pickle here. But with how warm it is, and relaxed you are…maybe working for this robot won’t be so bad.

[baldurs-gape]

Just Another Day

Holding the camp at arm's length was just an Astarion thing. While he was better at letting the others closer, had helped them understand his quirks, it was still painful when he receded back into the shadows of harsh quips and well aimed barbs. When he got like that the rest of the camp quickly learned to leave him alone. Whatever it was that got him in a spiral usually cleared up after a day or two. The only one who didn't pay much heed to Astarion's moods was Gale. Whether it was metaphorical rain or shine in that tent, he strode in there with utmost confidence. Usually, his presence seemed to work wonders on Astarion's moods so nobody discouraged him from continuing.

Another such mood swing was coming. The sneering got worse, Astarion scoffed at the smallest of things and advocated for more murder than usual.

"All I'm say is, we leave the wretches to their own fate. After all, if we die helping them, who is going to destroy Baldur's Gate's ruling class? We need to save ourselves for that."

As usual, he went ignored. But that didn't stop the near enough litany of complaints.

"Couldn't you have moved a bit faster? I thought githyanki were meant to be warriors. I shouldn't have to clean up the mess you make."

"No, I was absolutely aware of the adept casting the spell from behind me. You singed my favourite clothes and my hair! Do you know how inconvenient that is?"

"Your brain matter was probably the material converted to give you horns. I don't see how else you could have been so stupid."

It got worse and worse. Everyone got a tongue lashing, even if it was for something trivial like washing at an inconvenient time. They let Astarion just get on with things, avoided him and his ire. Things only came to a head when, after Astarion refused to leave his tent, Gale wandered in. Though tents weren't the most private of places, usually conversations within were respectfully ignored. But the whole camp heard Astarion's outburst.

"If you're so damn hungry, just go and eat Wyll's shoes! And maybe floss with the laces because you have bullshit getting stuck between your teeth!"

Storming out of the tent, Gale had half a mind to throw a boot back at Astarion. However, he was better than that. He had more control.

"Oh blow me," he growled under his breath.

"Blow your orb yourself, you coward!" Astarion's words rang sharp and clear through the camp and everyone froze. The only sound was the rustle of fabric as he tied the flaps of his tent shut.

At least he was quiet after that. Mumbles of "murder is wrong, staking your boyfriend is rude" from Gale were met with huffs of laughter. They all knew Astarion could be a little too dramatic at times, this was just a bit more excessive than usual.

In the morning the tent flap stayed shut. It was a small bit of relief even if the odd guilty glance was shot in its direction. Something was amiss but getting through to Astarion was nigh on impossible. The following day a small party was heading out and Astarion's help would have been much appreciated.

"Not today," his voice replied through the still shut tent. "I don't wish to become another 'accidental' death. Your hand might slip or you might just not be fast enough. What a tragedy, only the good die young, he'll be sorely missed. Then I'll be nothing but a distant memory that's best left forgotten. So no, thank you, I think I'll pass."

Adventuring without him went absolutely fine, not a single fight was had. Returning to camp, the group had a merry time. It was only next morning that Karlach cast Astarion's tent a sad glance.

"He hasn't been out since your argmuent. Not even to bask in the rising sun's glow."

Gale sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why he had to go falling in love with someone as impossible as Astarion was beyond him. But there he was. He eyed Karlach who offered a smile and half a shrug.

"Maybe he's just hangry. I know I would be, if I went so long without eating."

"I'll take him something."

Despite Gale's best intentions, Wyll had beaten him to it. He dragged the deer back to camp before hanging it up with Halsin's help to drain the blood into a bucket. Scooping some into a goblet, he approached the tent.

"We thought you might like something to drink," he said. There was no reply. "Seriously, Astarion, whatever it is that's got you like this, we can help. But you have to let us."

"Maybe the goblet is laced with garlic? Or dead man's blood? That's the only kind of help you seem capable of."

"Say what you like, but at least we're trying. Which is more than can be said about you," Wyll grumbled. He set the blood down in front of the tent flap and walked away.

It was still there the next morning, cold, congealed and drying. Gale frowned as he moved it out of his way. This whole thing was just getting ridiculous. Close to a week, Astarion had been in a funk. Leaving him alone hadn't seemed to solve the matter so it was time to get some answers.

"May I come in?"

Bitter resignation laced Astarion's voice. "Does my reply have any influence on your actions?" Before Gale could reply, Astarion let out a sad laugh. "You might as well come on in, I'll play along with your charade."

An invitation was an invitation and Gale decided to accept it. He undid the ties of the tent and stepped into the darkness. Eyes taking a moment to adjust, Gale peered around. The whole tent was a mess. Or, rather, at first glance it was a mess. But as he looked, a pattern of sorts began to emerge. The piles weren't random, clothes weren't strewn around. If Gale wasn't careful, he would trip over something. Either end of the tent held a bundle and he had no idea which one was Astarion. Squinting between the two, Gale opted not to move in case he started in the wrong direction and had to backtrack over the obstacle course.

"Astarion?" Nothing. Neither pile moved. Gale bit his tongue to hold back his frustration. "What's going on?" Still nothing. If Gale hadn't know Astarion was in there, he would have assumed the tent was empty. Patience wearing thin, he tried again. "Is this some stupid game you're playing? Because I'm not going to go along with that. So either behave like the adult you are, or I am leaving."

Finally one of the piles moved and Astarion's head popped up. Even in the half-light his eyes looked large, face drawn and exhausted as though he'd been on high alert for days on end without reprieve.

"Are you here to hurt me?"

"What kind of asinine-?! No! Absolutely not!" Aghast, Gale wasn't certain whether he wanted to get closer to Astarion or further away. "Light of my night, why would you ask that?"

No answer was forthcoming. No quip, no denial, no clarification. Instead, Astarion stared at him with about as much trust as a deer that had caught the scent of a predator.

"I just want you to drink."

"But you know your blood hurts."

"I never said to drink from me! You impossible man. I'm coming over and feel free to laugh when I topple over one of your traps." Because that's what they were. Traps and distractions. Picking his way over there, Gale plopped down and opened up his arms in invitation. The hesitation Astarion showed was hurtful, that was no lie. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to understand."

Under the bulk of clothes, armour and throws, it was almost like Astarion deflated. But he still didn't seek comfort in Gale's arms. They sat, in silence for a while.

"Today's my turning day," Astarion finally bit out.

"Shit. Is that like a birthday? I didn't think you'd celebrate such a day. But if I'd known, we'd have thrown you a party like we did for Wyll's birthday."

"I don't know when my birthday is." The words were quiet, hesitant. Almost like Astarion was talking about some forbidden topic that he was terrified of being overheard. "But Cazador wouldn't let me forget the day he claimed me."

Wouldn't let him forget...what Gale knew of Cazador, it was highly unlikely that he threw a party. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to slot together but the picture wasn't quite clear just yet.

"Would you have rather it was forgotten?"

A soft 'mhm' was the only reply. Silence stretched between them and Gale itched to know more. Thankfully, he was a stubborn bastard and for once he held out longer than Astarion.

"I'd get sent out with specific instructions on what he wanted me to bring home. I always failed, got punished." As he spoke, Astarion's eyes stared off into the distance, mentally miles away. "Then came the poisoned rats. The chalices of burning blood. Said it was all to soften me up for the day he most regretted in his life. Turning me."

Unable to help himself, Gale reached out, desperate to touch and reassure. A dam was broken and Astarion crumpled into the hand, near enough falling against Gale's chest as he sought comfort and reassurance that he'd denied himself for so long.

"On the day, he'd- he'd-" the words weren't coming and Gale gently shushed him.

"It's okay. He isn't here. He can't hurt you. Nobody's going to hurt you. Not today, not any day."

"Said it was my fault." Astarion didn't have tears to shed anymore, those had dried up a century ago. Crying wasn't a luxury he could afford himself but his breath still hitched on a sob. "I brought it on myself."

Ever so gently, Gale began running a hand through Astarion's hair. It was flat, dusty and greasy. He didn't care though. Everything was making sense at last. Refusals to join, to drink, to even leave his tent, Gale didn't have to be the genius he was to figure it all out. Leaning down, he buried his nose in Astarion's hair and breathed deeply.

"You didn't deserve it. Any of it." Mind made up, he pressed a kiss to Astarion's head. "You've must be exhausted after all this worry. Trust me to keep you safe?"

"But I told you to blow yourself sky high."

"You're not the first, nor will you be the last. Let me love you and protect you. Rest. Tomorrow we can think about getting you a drink that you're comfortable with. Okay?"

There was a little too much obedient pacifying in Astarion's placid "okay" but Gale couldn't do much about it. Maybe Karlach was right, after a fuller stomach the world might not look so ready to end for Astarion. But until then, Gale would sit with him, cast a ward of protection and stay awake for the whole night if it meant Astarion could have a bit of rest. Waving a hand and murmuring the spell, Gale let a soft shimmering blue of protection settle around the tent. He'd keep it there though until Astarion was ready to face the world again.

And maybe, while he waited, Gale was plotting to find a day for Astarion's birthday. They would make new memories and celebrate his existence. It wouldn't overwrite the memories of suffering, but Gale hoped it would give him new ones to remember and enjoy.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 The Cold is Never Violent: Chapter Five

The Cold is Never Violent: You were determined to help Morpheus get his tools back, so you willingly followed him to hell. Hell was not supposed to be this cold. Lucifer has something up their sleeve, making you stay the night in hell before the Oldest Game, and it does not bode well for you.

Warnings: NOT EDITED.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x AFAB!Reader, Pour Vous @melancholypancakes 😘

Word Count: ~3.4k

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Given the fact that Morpheus had bed bound you until your feet healed and the superficial frost bite on your limbs disappeared, you’d have thought that he would at least drop by to ask how you were doing, or, you know, not be a dick by dropping you off and then fucking off without word. But no. You hadn’t seen him since he fixed up part of the palace and deposited you in one of the rooms to heal. You weren’t complaining about the room, or the service, because having handmaidens to take care of you was very nice… but you desperately needed to discuss with him about what exactly had happened in hell, and why he had decided to not use his magic to warm you up.

You could only remember a little about what had happened, but you were very aware of his naked embrace holding onto your body despite your attempts to wriggle away. You could also remember the way his lips felt pressing against your neck and shoulder, and him whispering something to you as you fell back asleep. But nothing was clear in your mind. Certainly not how he felt about you.

Nada was a stark reminder of what could happen, of what would happen. Perhaps he did entertain your feelings… would you inadvertently infuriate him and get cast into hell just as the once queen had been? No, you’d probably experience something worse because you were no queen and not the slightest bit important to humanity. Was it even worth talking to him about the elephant that stood between you? Everyone knew you had a proclivity to test the Endless’ patience.

“So you’re gonna be a coward now?” You grumbled to yourself, throwing the book you had been mindlessly reading for the last hour, to the side. “At this point I just need to talk to him about it.” Eyes dropping to your blanket covered lap, you dragged it to the side to look at your sock covered feet. One of the handmaidens had told you that Morpheus had woven them from an occurring supernova so that they may always keep your feet warm. Given Morpheus’ proclivity for dramatic and extravagance, you didn’t doubt him doing so.

You didn’t bother putting on shoes as you slipped from your bed and grabbed a robe Morpheus had crafted in conjunction to your socks. It was a dark blue, almost black color, and the inside shimmered with the same cosmos that Morpheus’ coat had. Slipping your arms through he warm fabric, you wandered to the exit. Navigating the mess of your rooms was a little disorienting, as the palace was still not entirely put together… Morpheus still had one more tool to get, but you made it to a hallway without too much difficulty and began thinking of the library. You figured that with everything going on, Morpheus would either be in his throne room, or the library. You’d start with the library first since you liked it the most and Lucienne would be there.

The half broken walls around you shifted and groaned, magically transporting you safely to the doors of the library without too much walking on your healing feet. You patted a crumbling column in thanks before entering the large doors and smelling the scent of books and wood. You took a moment to savor it, not having experienced such a strong smell of a library from the Dreaming Library before. Things were finally coming together! That brought a smile to your lips and you skipped your way over to Lucienne’s known hangout.  She was hunched over a book, quill in hand as she scribbled on a piece of parchment.

“Hiya Luce,” You greeted her, eyes taking a peek at what she was writing. There were names of the residents on it, all neatly scribbled in her perfect handwriting. “Whatcha doing?”

Lucienne’s ears twitched and her sharp gaze rose to meet yours. What were you doing out of bed? The librarian knew that Morpheus’ mandate to keep you in your rooms to recover from your wounds would do little to enforce such a thing, but she never thought you’d wander this far on your injured feet!

“Pray tell what are you doing up?” She questioned strictly, giving you a disapproving eye. You rolled your own, knowing that she was going to tell you off about being up and about.

“Got bored, need to talk to grumpy pants,” You explained before kicking out a foot. “It’s not like I’m gonna lose my feet. They don’t even hurt anymore… can’t even tell there was something wrong in the first place. These socks are also hella warm…”

“Y/N,” Lucienne stressed out, exasperated at your clear lack of respect and care for your persons. Did you not care that you had been teetering on the brink of death? That you had come ever so close to meeting Morpheus’ sister that night? That Morpheus, in all his pettiness and ire, had managed to fall in love with someone from the same species as the one that had just held him captive for 106 years? Did you even consider what your death would cause him? To the entire Dreaming?? Clearly not. “You must have more self preservation than that which you are certainly displaying at the moment!”

“So… is he around?” You questioned, making a point to ignore her question and focus on your goal. Talk to Morpheus, get answers for his words and treatment of you. “I really do need to talk to him. He’s got some explaining to do and I don’t appreciate his disappearing act.” Lucienne cleared her throat and adjusted her spectacles. Not even death could sway your determination and personality. This was something she would have to leave to you and Morpheus, no matter how tumultuous the Dreaming would become. Quite so at this rate…

“Lord Morpheus is currently seeing to the foundation of the palace with Mervyn.” She told you, giving you the eye that clearly indicated that this conversation was far from over. Well it was as far as you were concerned. “I believe you shall find them in the dungeon?”

“We have a dungeon?” You asked, blinking as your heart started beating faster. No one had said anything about a dungeon before! That was totally unfair and you were going to explore it right now. Lucienne could see your thought process and internally sighed. Your emotions were so fluid and thoughts just the same.

“Yes… now I believe you shall find them near the east wing as it has shown the most… decay.” You nodded in understanding and tapping your palms against your thighs. A dungeon. Oh you could only imagine what you’d find down there! Excitement now buzzing through your veins, your aching footsteps now had a bounce while you strode towards the east end of the palace. As you walked, you noticed how the palace seemed to shiver and tremble, coming more alive than you had ever seen it. Oh yes, Morpheus’ was getting his realm back in order and you were here for it!

The dungeon of his palace wasn’t exactly a dungeon in the typical sense. It held the room holding the tokens of his sibling, a few rooms which a few nightmares reliant on the dark resided, and a cellar for the vineyard wines Mervyn was experimenting with. His main priority was to bolster the structure of the palace and return the homes of his nightmares to proper shape. Mervyn was assisting with the count of returned nightmares thanks to Lucienne’s census.

Rebuilding the latest room, Morpheus watched as the nightmare scuttled into the darkened space with a purr of happiness. While he did not express his emotions upon his face, Morpheus was pleased to see his nightmare appeased with its home. Turning away from the room, Morpheus strode towards the center of the palace dungeon. As he walked, he reformed and reinforced the structural columns. Dust and rock rose in the air and dissipated into solid marble. Mervyn lumbered over, carrying a piece of a broken statue.

“Just finished up cleaning the treasury, most of the work pulled through but a few statues like this one took a hit.” He rumbled while holding out the broken statue. “Not that they can’t be fixed but there might be some trouble from the people who gifted them.”

“Whatever trouble comes from the fae realms, I shall deal with myself,” Morpheus stated, barely sparing the broken statue a glance. He’d been gifted many an artwork over the eons, it was hard for the staff to keep track of at all times. Mervyn had been doing his best to go through the collections but it would take time to determine how much damage had been wrought in the time he’d been gone.

There was almost an infinite amount of work that needed to be done within his realm and Morpheus wasn’t at full power… yet he needed the distraction of rebuilding his realm. If not, Morpheus’ conscious would be consumed by you. You were resting in a finished part of the palace, resting and recovering from the frostbite you’d received from the trip to hell. A trip that Morpheus wished he had forced you to remain behind on.

Not only had you nearly died from hypothermia, but your feet had gotten ripped up from you walking barefoot in addition to frostbite. Morpheus had bit his tongue to stop himself from speaking out about your treatment in hell. It was an egregious insult that he wasn’t in any position to call out. His ruby was still out in the Waking, but you wouldn’t be going anywhere. He was not going to risk your safety again. Morpheus was about to move onto the next project when he went ridged.

He could sense your approaching being.

Without a word to Mervyn, he strode away in a swirl of sand, leaving you to happen upon a confused janitor.

“Hey Merv,” You greeted the pumpkin headed janitor. “Uh, Lucienne said that Morpheus was down here?” You asked looking around in confusion. “I need to talk to him.”

“Uh, the boss just left… I can give him a message for you the nest time I see him if you want?” You frowned and sighed.

“No, no that’s okay,” You muttered unhappily. “I— I have some personal questions I need to ask him but since he’s not here…” You looked around. “Why did no one tell me we have a dungeon and what is down here? This place is kick ass! Do you have a torture chamber? Has Morpheus kept prisoners here? Do you have skeletons in chains!?”

Apparently Morpheus had a palace cook and that resident had returned upon hearing the kitchen was operable again. So you got to indulge in a larger than necessary brunch with Matthew as company. You were the only one seated at the grand table and just looking at all the prepared dishes made you both nauseous and hungry. You were currently indulging in some French toast with the most delectable maple syrup as Matthew told you stories of his childhood. While he wasn’t exactly a human anymore, he was the only one in the realm that you could relate to.

So you had been telling him about recent movies you wanted to see and asking about what he’d seen in the Dreaming since you were still not allowed to leave the palace. With so many dreams and nightmares returning to the realm, the landscape had bloomed with activity. Of course there was still a giant sandy area where Fiddler’s Green had once resided. You wanted to see what he looked like when he returned, but as far as you and Matthew knew, he was still MIA.

Picking at a danish, you offered the Raven bits and crumbs from the baked good. He gobbled them up with a happy croak.

“Oh man I missed eating,” Matthew sighed happily, waddling closer to you and shuffling his wings. “Though I am surprised that I can even taste anything.”

“Bird’s have taste buds, just not as many as a human,” You spoke absentmindedly, ribbing further into the danish. “‘Sides, you aren’t just an another bird. You are a Raven of Dream of the Endless, you’re magical and whatnot. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could do other things most birds can’t.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego, Y/N,” Matthew sighed, tilting his head at you and examining your face. You’d been rather lost in your thoughts the last few days, demure and very much not behaving like the obstinate human the Dreaming had come to know and love. You hadn’t been the same since returning from Hell. Matthew had chalked it up to it just being Hell. It had clearly affected you when you were physically there, perhaps you were still recovering from it? No. It couldn’t be that.

Matthew knew you to be an exceptionally resilient human, who else would be impervious to Morpheus’ attitude?

“Hey, ah, Y/N?” He broached, cocking his head side and side and shifting on his feet nervously. “Uh, you’ve been kind of off since we got back from hell and I know you were injured and all that but you and Morpheus are acting odd.” The moment Matthew mentioned Morpheus, your hand jerked and you spilled hot tea on your hand. You cursed loudly and the Raven jumped in place with a squawk. “Oh shit!”

“It’s fine,” You uttered quietly, grabbing a napkin and dabbing your throbbing flesh. You didn’t really want to get into the whole ‘Morpheus was avoiding you and you really needed to talk to him because you were pretty sure he owed you some explanations’. Matthew didn’t need to be dragged into your relationship problems, if you could even call whatever the hell was going on between you and the Dream Lord a relationship. That was just wishful thinking on your part. “I need to talk to—”

Your words were cut off the moment the breakfast room doors opened and the very being that you could not rid your thoughts of strode in. Freezing in place for but a moment, you took in a deep and firmly told yourself that you would not let the Endless leave the room until he talked to you. But before you could open your mouth to speak once more, Morpheus was talking.

“Matthew, come, we have business to attend to.” Morpheus spoke, ignoring you and even refusing to look at you. Your eye twitched and you pursed your lips tightly to stop the look of hurt flashing across your face. Swallowing thickly, you spoke up.

“Morpheus—”

“Now,” Morpheus repeated, staring the poor Raven currently looked between his master and his best friend.

“Sorry, Y/N,” The Raven eked out before fluttering over to his master. Without even looking or even addressing you, Morpheus strode from the room. You bit down on your tongue and forced yourself to not go chasing after him with hell on your heels.

You were planning on cornering Morpheus in the library to get him to talk to you. He was researching the whereabouts of his ruby, the last of his belongings that was still missing. From what you had heard from Lucienne, Morpheus had placed a part of himself within the gemstone eons ago, so a large part of his power resided in it. In the wrong hands it could do a lot of damage. So after listening in on Morpheus and Matthew’s last conversation, you had slunk off to the library to get to the book first.

Perhaps it was a little childish of you to get to the book first and then hold it hostage until Morpheus talked to you, but you were at that point given his childishness of avoiding you. He hadn’t spent more than a single minute since you had woken up, in your presence.

You have never been just a subject to me.

Those words were going to drive you insane at this rate, so angrily stomping down an aisle in the library, your eyes scanned the bookshelves in intense scrutiny. You’d find that damn book and hold it hostage until the stupid Endless explained what he had meant by those words and what exactly you meant to him. You were a plain human. Not a queen. Not a goddess. Not a beautiful immortal fae. Just a stupid plain human meddling in things that they probably shouldn’t. In your angry stomps, a book stood out to you.

You paused and cocked your head, peering closer at the book. John Dee. A book of Dreams? The library was quite clever in helping to find books that one needed, so if it was showing you a book of Dreams there must be something in that book that could help you! Reaching for the book, you eased it from the shelf and opened the cover. Oh geez. You only had to review a few dreams to realize that whoever John Dee was, was a very troubled man.

The further you read on, the more intrigued you got, and the large the pit in your stomach became. John Dee. Son of one Ethel Cripps and Roderick Burgess. Roderick Burgess, the very man who was responsible for Morpheus’ imprisonment. Ethel had been the one to run off with Morpheus’ tools, John Dee had been the one the ruby had landed in the hands of. Stomach rolling, you flipped through the pages in fervent manor, trying to figure out where the ruby had ended up. But before you could pinpoint the place John Dee had hidden the ruby, the voice of Morpheus and Lucienne rang out.

“…within the library.” Morpheus’ voice spoke as you closed the book and held it behind your back. The pair emerged with Matthew fluttering over head, and stopped the moment they caught sight of you. Lucienne spoke as Morpheus froze in his spot, not expecting to see you.

“Y/N, I was not expecting to see you within the library at this time. Do you not usually have tea with the kelpies this time of day?” You wanted to look at the librarian and politely reply why you weren’t at tea with the Kelpies, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from Morpheus’.

“Yes, usually I do,” You answered, fingers curling tighter against the book within your grasp. “But I had other plans today, certainly given that Morpheus is still looking for his ruby.”

You saw Morpheus’ eyes narrow and your own gaze turned petulant.

“Consequently, I found a book that gives the exact location of the ruby.” Lucienne’s eyes widened before a smile appeared.

“That is certainly wonderful news, what is the location?” Your eyes went cold.

“I need to have a conversation with Morpheus before I divulge that information given that I have had zero chances of speaking with him the last week.” You boldly stated, lifting your chin. Morpheus’ eyes began softly glowing at your challenge and he stepped forwards, eyes training on the book you held behind your back.

“I do not have time for your audacious actions, Y/N. The book, now.” Your eyes flashed angrily and you refused.

“No. Not until you stop avoiding me and talk like a mature adult!” You snapped back. “Have you forgotten that I am here to help!?”

“I don’t want your help!” Morpheus hissed at you, his eyes glowing like an explosive supernova. You jerked in place like he had physically struck you. You’d been there for him since before he had escaped his cage, helped him get back his sand and helm, and now he was telling you that he didn’t want your help? Fury filled you yet the pain of his words burned within your veins. But you’d rather show fury than the pain now running through your body.

“Then you’re not getting the book.” You stated, your voice now dead from emotion. Morpheus titled his head, unable to understand your obstinance and refusal to do as he bid. Was he not keeping you safe? Were you not well cared for and protected within his realm? Why were you always so insistent in running head long into danger!? He’d put an end to this immediately.

Your jaw clenched when you felt the book in fingers dissolve to sand and flow to the Dream Lord. When it reappeared in his hand and Morpheus promptly and confidently turned his back and strode away, something in your heart broke. He was leaving you behind to retrieve his ruby, and made it clear that he didn’t want your help.

Date Published: 12/7/23

Last Edit: 12/7/23

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[ablizmal]

the symbolism in the “L: change the world” photoshoot

(also some L childhood headcanons) (TW for dehumanization)

OKAY so i finally got around to finding a download of the “L: change the world” photoshoot, and not only is it extremely professional, but just… i feel like they really understood L’s character, because there’s so much symbolism in some of these photos, man.

like this?

i know exactly what this means just from looking at it.

now obviously, this is all up to speculation, but… here’s my take on this photo.

to start this off, i do believe that L genuinely likes solving cases. i believe it’s one of the only things in the world that engages his mind and keeps him from being depressed and listless 100% of the time.

but if i want to be angsty about it… do you think L is imprisoned, in a sense, to solving cases? cause like even if he couldn’t handle it anymore (he COULD. in character he could, i’m just saying the following as a realism hypothetical), he couldn’t just... stop.

yes, he has successors. but i headcanon that he didn’t form that program— that was all watari. the building for that orphanage is named “the wammy’s house,” after all. whatever watari did, whatever tactics, intimidation, and pressure he put on L to “hone” his detective skills… L doesn’t want another kid to go through that.

but they are.

and he’s too much of a coward to put an end to it.

and yes, i know, i KNOW that it’s hinted at in-series that no terrible shit happens at the wammy’s house. but have you SEEN this part of the “how to read” guidebook???

watari raises kids as detectives. for fun.

for fun.

i do NOT trust this man to be around kids, much less to raise one! he for sure abuses children, whether psychologically or physically (but like… in an old man way, like slapping a ruler against a kid’s wrist for a mistake).

for him to qualify as “cultivating kids as detectives,” i can easily imagine him putting child L through rigorous (not to mention relentless) training, to sharpen the mind. like HOURS of training, nonstop.

i think canonically (even if it’s not confirmed), L tends to sits motionlessly in rooms while doing cases due to hyperfocus. but then my brother pitched this one idea and it’s fucked me up.

“what if watari didn’t give L a chair to sit in while he was training him for hours? because as a kid, when he was sitting in his room, there wasn’t a single chair… what if L now sits like that all the time because he got used to it?”

.

bruh. D:

ANYWAYS, back on topic!!!

so watari is a wholly terrible person who put a child (L) through terrible mental exercises, right? right, that’s the headcanon we’re going with.

L is just an experiment. that’s ALL he is to watari, really. L is his most perfected invention. L has so much TRAUMA from the way watari “““raised””” him that his brain’s repressed ALL THE EVENTS. you know?? the conditioning is still hardwired into his system brain. his brain. but he doesn’t remember anything else from his childhood.

but whatever happened, L has a feeling that it was bad.

soooooooo, L is now “trapped” in his occupation, shackles of guilt and obligation holding him in place. he doesn’t want another person to hold an existence similar to his current one. he didn’t want that, he wasn’t aware of the creation of the wammy’s house, but it happened, and it’s all because he exists. additionally, he can’t just quit being L, the world’s greatest detective, because then who will solve these cases? who will serve justice to the lowest of the low in the world? (tbh a parallel to light and his resolve to become kira 🫢)

so L being arranged with a dark blue fish, of all things, for the photo (DARK BLUE. THE SAME EXACT FUCKING COLOR AS HIS INTERNAL MONOLOGUE LIGHTING, AAAAAAAAA) holds so much depth. deep down, he feels empathy for it. he understands. it’s not right. it’s not fair. but this is its purpose in this world— to sit still for the benefit of others who hold more power over it and its fate. what else can it truly do?

so,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

what a haunting image.

(as an aside, watari can be a character with such depth and limitless voids of depravity. follow my blog @fuckyouwatari for more hate posts of this decrepit man, but also i’m making up the headcanons that make me hate him so much lmao. join the “all my homies HATE watari” fanclub today!~ :D)

[transhawks]

Not to start shit but even though the whole thing abt touya being the firstborn would affect him given how japan works how is ppl not paying too much attention to that means dabi being misunderstood by readers? That was not the point of his story was it?? I mean the only thing enji denied touya was a normal family life with not abused ppl. And we saw touya feeling the pressure of him needing to be The Best/Strongest so that endvr would at least look at him like??????

I think there's a lot of holdover to pre-reveal, in the sense where a lot of us assumed Dabi was Shouto 2.0. At least I get that sense when I see how much people really like fanon!Dabi.

we assumed that he was abused and forced into training and resentful of it from the start, much like we see Shouto is. (Not saying he was not abused, but the way he was abused and his own perception of it was very different). The assumption was that Touya would have never wanted to be a hero, to do what his dad wanted, etc. The speculation was that Endeavor pushed him harder and harder to meet his expectations when it was the opposite. Enji ran off like a coward, unsure of how to be a real dad, Touya then pushed himself to death trying to retain any bit of his father's attention and love the only way he knew how.

We were very wrong, essentially, and the birth order and cultural expectations only accentuate how much more Touya was willing to follow in his father's footsteps. Where the bulk of his contention with his father was his father's abandonment and inability to be a father to him outside of hero parameters.

That's why Deku's it's your power didn't work. Where Shouto struggled for a sense of self and autonomy outside of Endeavor, that was not what Dabi wanted, Dabi wants his father to choose and see him, he wants his father legacy, his father's love, etc. Yes, he is aware his father is abusive, the whole marriage and premise of their lives was fucked up from the start. But I keep saying just because Touya knows this rationally doesn't mean it really sinks in - he's jealous of Shouto, he wishes he was in his position and outright tells Shouto that Shouto is squandering it.

And yes that means also just his rights as firstborn. Endeavor throwing aside tradition - what did Touya have? Not his dad's love, not his name, not his place in the world. I think this is probably where Western readers struggle most of get how much life has traditionally been decided for you worldwide by your parents.

I think this is why the nepotism debate to me is wild too - people following in their parents' footsteps has always been the norm rather than exception. Japan had a whole caste system originally based on employment for centuries. Your life was defined by your great x10 grandfather was a gardener and you had no choice but to be a gardener too.

Enji destroyed that sort of life for Touya. Our parents love is about so much and a lot of it is about our parents being able to raise us into people who can take on the world. Touya was discarded; the place in the world he should have had as a firstborn was destroyed through his father's ambitions. Enji replaced him not only in his own personal ambitions but in his place as a son.

And again, Touya loved his father. I keep emphasizing this but he is not Shouto and the two have very different relationships to Enji early on. The lack of love back is really exemplified in how much Enji doesn't account for Touya's future and what it looks like to so openly throwaway the expectations you would have in an old titled family like Rei's in favor of the youngest son.

Yeah, I just think the cultural nuance is important here. It adds weight to Touya's devastation and why he wants his father's attention and approval as much as he does.

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; There have been two grand silences in the back of Vash's mind in his long, long life. The first had been long, a pain that had started while he'd been asleep only to wake up to the knowledge of it; had taken years to dull into a gently thumping ache that never quite went away, only becoming more silent with time. It had become old hat, another one of the hurts that weighed on his shoulders in such a familiar way.

The second had been sharp and concise, the realization of it feeling as though that open door was being physically ripped away from him. Another starburst of agony in his ribs.

Like a mirror, though, the image reverses itself; instead of waking up to that great quiet he is instead immediately aware of his brother's presence, even through the relived torment of rot passing through him.

He doesn't reach out at first. ( Coward. ) It hurts to breath, and soon enough he's asleep again anyway.

Instead, when he wakes up again and feels more like he belongs in his own body, Vash makes his presence known. A gentle weight- or what could even be perceived as that- pressed against his side of the door. Too scared to know what to say. He feels every bit the part of the younger sibling, no matter how much he'd contested about it with Knives before, staring in at the older from the threshold but too unsure to step inside.

It's not until a few days later when Vash finally sends a quiet Here? between them, shortly followed by a physical text of his location. He's there already, outside the dome, the ocean a constant, distant roar. If you've got time.

@plantfell