#Valentines Day Gift Exchange

[sisyphus-prime]

@kittemfang's Kichihime for @mesevents Valentines gift exchange! I love love LOVE her, she seems so fun <3

[obikin-events]

Welcome to our 2023 Valentine’s Day Gift Exchange!

What is the Obikin Events Valentine’s Day Gift Exchange? 

Well, it’s much like any holiday or fandom exchange where a person will sign up to create something fannish for someone else who signs up, and in turn will be given a gift created just for them! 

We do ask if you’re thinking about signing up for this, that you keep our minimums and schedule in mind, as these dates and requirements are for everyone, so no exceptions will be made.

The Schedule:

Signups will open on: January 1, at 12:00AM US EST.

Signups Close: January 8, 11:59PM US EST.

Assignments will be out by: January 10, 11:59PM US EST.

Works are due by: February 9, 11:59PM US EST.

The Pinch Hitters will be contacted and given assignments on: February 10, 11:59PM US EST.

Gifts will be revealed on: February 14, 12:00PM US EST!

Authors will be revealed: February 21, 11:59AM US EST!

What are the basic rules for this Valentine’s Day Gift Exchange?

You must have an Ao3 account to sign-up for this exchange, as that is where we will be running this. Please contact the mods if you would like help getting an invite if you need one.

Works will remain anonymous until the reveal date, so please do not share or talk about what you are creating for your giftee until after the creator reveals have happened.

You must be 18+ to sign-up.

YOU MUST TAG APPROPRIATELY – while something may not bother you, that is not the same for someone else, so please, please ensure you tag appropriately or leave a note at the top of the fic letting people know that ‘x’, ‘y’ or ‘z’ thing is going to appear within your creation.

While we have no maximums for this exchange, these are our hard minimums you must meet:

Fic: 500 words.

Art: a clean sketch that is at least 500x500 pixels.

How does the Valentine’s Gift Exchange work?

When you sign-up you will list at least 3 prompts, likes/do not want’s – please be thorough when filling those out to ensure you receive what you want and not something that is a no for you – in your requests.

(example prompts: 1, Obi-wan meets Anakin by spilling coffee on him; 2, Sith Anakin tries to court Jedi Master Obi-wan; 3, Anakin helps his twins make up valentines cards for their second grade class, while hopelessly pining for their teacher and wishing he could give the man his own.)

(example likes/dislikes: likes - bottom Anakin, soft dom Obi-wan, canon verse, fix-its, happy endings | dislikes: bottom Obi-wan, modern AUs, no happy endings, mentions of Anidala or Quiobi)

In your offers, you will list what you are comfortable creating for and what you are not.

(example: I’m comfortable writing canon verse/compliant/divergence, fix-its, Sith/Never a Jedi AUs, etc… | I’m not comfortable writing reverse or age swap fics, modern AUs)

Please note if you are open to receiving treats or not.

Treats are a bonus, not something creators need to fill!

Once you receive your asignment, you begin creating!

Q&A:

What happens if I don’t like any of the prompts I receive?

While mods will be double checking that 'do not wants' do not conflict with their matches requests, the prompts are meant to inspire you. As long as you do not write something which a person has marked 'DNW' and suit the spirit of the exchange.

Can my work be multi-chaptered? 

Absolutely it can! But it must be a completed work when you fulfil your assignment by the deadline.

What kind of art can I make? 

While you may opt into receiving nontraditional art for treats – such as gifs, fanvideos, fanmixies, podfics, graphics/manips – we do ask that you stick to the more traditional fanart/writing for filling the main assignment.

Do we have to fill out all prompts when signing up?

No, you simply need to fulfill one of the prompts given. 

I’m excited to talk about my prompts, can I?

No. This exchange is meant to be a secret, so please do not discuss who you’re creating for in a public setting. If you have a trusted friend you talk over ideas with, that is alright but please don’t publicly speak about it. 

I’ve signed up but life has happened and I don’t think I’ll be able to finish my gift. What should I do?

Please contact the mods as soon as you realize this so that we may contact a pinch hitter and give them the maximum amount of time to work on the gift. 

I’d like to sign up as a pinch hitter, how can I do that?

If you’d like to sign up as a pinch hitter, please DM the mods with your Ao3 handle and the best way to contact you and we’ll add you to our list!

I know I won’t be able to fulfill my gift but a friend has said they could, can I just give them my assignment?

No. Please do not do this. If you know you will not be able to finish, please contact the mods and not just give your assignment away to a friend.

Can I only list 3 prompts?

No, you can absolutely list more, but the minimum we ask for is three. 

If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to send in an ask on Tumblr, a DM on Twitter, an ask in the discord server or even an email to obikinevents@gmail.com.

May the Obikin Be With You.

[moonlightatnoon]

Echo of my desires by myideaofbeautiful

Summary:

“Anakin, you need to listen to me!”

The words had barely left Obi-Wan’s mouth before Anakin turned around. His lightsaber fell carelessly to the ground as his hand captured Obi-Wan’s in his own, locking him in an inescapable grip.

“Master,” he whispered, before pulling Obi-Wan into his embrace. Their bodies, still warm and sweat damp from battle, pressed together. Anakin buried his nose in Obi-Wan’s neck and inhaled. His body shuddered at his Master’s scent. A growl was the only warning Obi-Wan got before he was forced to the ground, Anakin’s hulking figure over him.

Prompt: "Omegaverse au, canon. Maybe because of a sith artifact/drugs/pollen, Anakin, an alpha, turns feral and he wants to mate with omega! obiwan right this instant."

Written as part of the Obikin Events Valentine's Day Exchange 2023 as a treat for Kidhuzural.

[hyriaven]

Gift for @/pistachikou I went with the fantasy prompt, hope you like it!! Thanks @/stlweek for hosting!!✨ . . I was debating what role I should give them, but Mitsumi is perfect as a knight Shima could have been an archer but the staff suits the compostion better so i went with this i wonder what roles the others would have

[shiveagit]

Rottmnt Apritello Valentines 2024 There's no time to dress to impress. It's confess your love now or never. But also capitalism strikes in the from of an overpriced rose Bear.

[iamamythologicalcreature]

It's a Happy Pride Month for Snowbaz! (Happy Pride to everyone celebrating!)

*This post contains snowbaz art, closeups of Baz's hair and feet because why not, and a bonus sketch below the cut!

(*am I ridiculously proud of Baz's feet? Yes. I am. Thank you. >.>)

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

Check below the cut for a sketchy look at Simon and Baz before they went over the rainbow!

[tizzymcwizzy]

happy valentine's day from jacob the sea beast holland 💖

[thecourtjester12]

Happy valentine's day @theporcelaincat1!!!!

Here's my gift to you for our gift exchange! I wanted to make you a second drawing but ended up not getting to it sadly....I hope you like it! ^-^

Original under cut!

[sp0o0kylights]

“Oh god it’s covered in hearts.” Gareth says, staring horrified at the stage that’s been set up in the cafeteria. Grant and Jeff stand next to him, eyeing the abomination of glitter, paper, and tinsel that’s been shaped into pink and red hearts with a microphone standing proud in the middle.

Several of Hawkin’s jocks are standing to the side, talking amongst themselves, but worse is the crowd of students accumulating in front of the stage.

“You don’t think they’re gonna serenade us for Valentine's Day, do you?” Jeff asks in a similar tone of horror.

Grant makes a disgusted face at the very thought.

“It’s about time they gave me my own mic!” Eddie cackles, slamming his hands down on Gareth and Jeff’s shoulders for leverage, jumping up for a better look (Grant smartly ducked away before his friend can crawl all over him too), “I’ve only been going on about the capitalistic horrors of Valentine's Day since middle school!”

They groan in unison..

Eddie’s got a look on his face that says he’s about to vault up on stage and do this year's rant in style; Gareth will be damned if he lets Eddie get detention on a Hellfire campaign night.

“Eddie, no.” Gareth warns, as his best friend tries to worm his way past them.

“Eddie, yes.” He grins, bolting forward even as multiple hands reach out to yank him back.

“Whatever they’re doing we do not want to get in the middle!” Jeff hisses in his ear as Grant reaches for his middle (already once tricked by grabbing Eddie’s jacket, which he simply shrugged out of). Gareth does his part, holding firmly onto one of Eddie’s hands. Eddie bravely tries to stagger forward, despite the efforts of what looks like some kind of mutant tangle of human limbs.

“Come here microphone, my beloved!” He pants, comically reaching his arms out towards the stage, before Grant promptly stops fooling around and hefts him into the air.

“Nooo--the people need to hear me!” Eddie wails, thrashing.

Gareth rolls his eyes and spots three familiar faces in doing so. Freezes so abruptly that the arm he was holding onto slips out of his grip, allowing Eddie to deploy a tickle attack.

The result is Grant almost throwing him to the floor, with Jeff forced to let go or fall.

Free to cause chaos, Eddie throws his hands in the air, grinning widely.

“Is that…the freshman, up there?” Gareth asks before his best friend can crow victory.

“I’m sure there’s many freshmen up there, buddy.” Grant says with false sincerity as he regains his breath.

“No, not--I mean our freshmen! Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair!” He points, and sure enough, on the side of the crowd opposite the jocks, there stood Hellfire’s youngest with their heads put together.

“Now just what are they up to, I wonder?” Eddie ponders aloud, before shrugging his jacket back in place and strutting forward.

Trading uneasy looks with each other, his friends follow.

xXx

“The auction isn’t kicking off until 6 pm.” Henderson says, as he carefully counts the individual bills in his hand. “We know that besides the basketball team and the cheerleading team, they’ve got like, the Mayor involved, and the fire department, which means--”

“A lot of people are going to be there.” Mike interrupts, arms crossed over his arms. “That’s what it means, Dustin. What’s the point if every girl there is going to be bidding on him?”

“Were you even listening, Mike? I just said there’s a bunch of other people they’re auctioning off!”

Wheeler Jr. pulls a face that nearly makes Eddie laugh (and thus give up the fact he was slowly sneaking up on them) before the kid shoots back, “We have five dollars total Dustin. I don’t think that’s going to be enough.”

“Not to buy a whole person.” Eddie says, voice dropping to imitate the current big bad in their D&D campaign, “But five dollars is a fair price for a body part I’d say…”

He trails off with a cackle as the three freshmen startle away from him like spooked horses. “Now what--or who--are you buying?”

“They’re gonna explain it here in a minute,” Dustin says after he recovers, waving at the girls in front of the stage with a hand. “But there’s some big charity fundraiser happening tonight. Right now they’re voting one guy from the basketball team and one girl from the cheerleading squad to represent the school, but they’re auctioning off a bunch of people.” Dustin explains, holding up his fistful of dollars with a wild grin.

“If you’re the highest bidder, you get to spend the day with the person you bid on.” Lucas adds, because Dustin skipped right over that part. “Since it’s Valentine's Day themed, they’re referring to them as “winning a date”.

Well that explained all the giggling cheerleaders.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “I’d ask if this is Sinclair’s bail money, but as my last two years remind me, it’s only for juniors and seniors. Not--” He playfully slings an arm around Lucas’s shoulders, “--for the darkside’s newest recruits.”

The uncomfortable look Lucas gives him is almost enough to make Eddie feel bad, but it’s not his fault Lucas was tempted by the evils of highschool sportsball. He figures the kid will come to his senses soon enough, and considering how awful the jocks are, it won’t be too long before Sinclair is 100% a Hellfire club member again.

“Which begs the question.” Eddie continues, slinging an arm over Mike’s shoulder as well. “What are you scheming? I’d ask if you’re buying me a date, but,'' He gives an over-dramatic sigh,” alas, no one can survive the charms of Eddie the Banished.”

“Charm is one word for it.” Jeff says, as the rest of Hellfire finally catches up. Gareth and Grant roll their eyes as Mike and Lucas chuckle weakly at Eddie’s exaggerated pout.

He drops his arms from his little lamb’s shoulders, taking a step back and looking around at the growing crowd.

“Hush Jeff. Let’s see if ol’ Eddie can guess who our brethren here have their eyes on. I wonder if…” He trails off, dragging out the last word as he does so before a bright, teasing smile lights up his face. “Aha! I see one Miss Cunningham. Are we bidding on her for Sir Gareth?”

A sputtering noise erupts behind him, as Eddie turns with glee to watch Gareth practically choke on soda he’d just taken a sip of, Grant thumping him on the back.

“Eddie.” Gareth hisses, and somehow it sounds like a warning even if his voice has a slight wheeze to it.

“What?” Eddie says, full of faux innocence. “We all know the lengths you’ve gone to get her attention recently.”

Gareth’s gone bright red, a testament to the fact that he’s been mooning over Chrissy Cunningham since the day she complimented one of his drawings.

His over-the-top moaning of how to woo her away from Jason is a prospect Eddie tolerates only because he himself has gone through great lengths to impress men that will never once look his way, let alone consider him as a romantic option.

(And also because Gareth, as Eddie’s best friend and confidant, was well aware of Eddie’s own crush on one Steve Harrington.

Apparently, Hellfire’s members were just cursed to fall for jocks.)

“They want to bet on Steve.” Mike says with an eye roll, apparently done with this entire charade.

For two seconds Eddie thinks that he’s somehow spoken the part about Steve aloud and that Mike is somehow echoing his deepest, innermost thoughts but is saved from panicking further by Dustin adding;

“We’re gonna make him play a campaign with us.”

The kid’s grin makes his eyes sparkle, which is completely at odds with the way Eddie’s stomach plummets.

“He played D&D with my sister, Eddie.” Lucas says, feigning a hurt look. “My kid sister, but not me?”

“Harrington played D&D?” Gareth’s voice implies he doesn’t believe it, and honestly? Had it not been for the freshmen, he wouldn’t have believed anything that was said about Harrington. He was on the verge of tears with laughter when they told him that the almighty King Steve was their chauffeur. They had to be lying about how often they hung out with Steve to begin with, right? Because there was just no way.

Except they weren’t. They really, really, weren’t.

It only took a handful of times of watching Steve pick them up from Hellfire, and then seeing the entire extended group (including Sinclair’s on-again-off-again girlfriend and Robin Buckley of all people) bouncing around Harrington like over excited puppies all over town.

The arcade. Downtown Hawkins. The local milkshake diner and the stupid movie theater.

Literally.

Everywhere.

“You guys are going to bid on Steve Harrington and make him play D&D.” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie doesn’t blame him for doing that either.

It’s the stupidest thing he’s heard all day, and he spent the last hour and a half listening to Mr. Rulf yawn on about parallelograms.

“Yeah! You guys wanna pitch in and help?”

“Absolutely not.” Eddie sneers. He can’t help himself--this is against everything he’s ever stood for.

Stupid thoughts of stupid Steve going on a stupid date with him, aside.

“Yeah guys, I think we’re gonna eat outside today. If you wanna listen to…whatever,” Jeff casts his eyes towards the cheerleader that’s bounding up the steps of the stage, ponytail bouncing, “ then go right ahead.”

“Oh we don’t need to listen to this.” Dustin dismisses the entire thing with a wave of his hand, making Mike roll his eyes again.

Somewhere in his campaign notes there’s a joke written about Wheeler Jr’s eyes getting stuck like that. Eddie hadn’t planned on bringing it out tonight, but a part of him really wants to.

Maybe if he can talk the freshman out of their idiotic idea, he’ll reward himself and do it tonight anyways.

….Or he could still steal that microphone.

xXx Steve xXx

Steve has no idea how he got talked into this.

Actually, that’s a lie, he knows how it started: a phone call, his mother, and a sudden way for her to be in the spotlight for her yearly fifteen minutes of Hawkins fame. He just can’t recall why he agreed to it.

“It's an opportunity, Steven." She says, heels clicking against the department store tile.

An embarrassment is what it was, but Steve knew better than to tell his mother that.

"You should be honored that Wendy--that’s the head chair of the charity board, you remember her don't you? She used to attend your piano recitals--she asked for you personally." His mother expertly plucked a shirt from the rack, holding it up to the light.

"Those were your parties mom, not my piano recitals." Steve reminds her as she holds the shirt out to him. He took it, adding it to the stack he had in his hands.

The parties were the exact same kind of shit this as this “Valentine's Day Fundraiser” a way for rich people to celebrate themselves by making others uncomfortable.

Only instead of being forced to play piano so his mothers friends could wine and dine with the famous Harrington's, he was being hauled up in front of the entire town (or whoever was attending this stupid event) and auctioned off as a “date” to the highest bidder.

(“It’s for one day, Steven, don’t be so dramatic. Why is your generation entirely incapable of taking a joke and having fun?” His mother had said, when he tried to tell her he wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

Of course there was no answer that would please her; soon enough, Steve found himself dragged about town as his mother played dress up.)

"You'll be standing alongside the Mayor, the fire department, even that idiot, Mary Marie--"

She stops for a moment, eyeing a jacket with a critical eye.

Just as quickly she dismisses it with a hum, prowling on to the next section.

"--the point is that there will be plenty of candidates for the children to pick from, but you’ll be the only hero up there."

That same critical eye turns on him, appraising him like he was no more than a horse in her stable, adding up imperfections and dividing amongst his best qualities.

(Despite a lifetime of training, it still takes everything in him not to squirm.)

"Not to mention a Harrington.” She purrs, taking a step closer to run a manicured hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing away a stray crease. “Women will be throwing money to win a day with you."

Steve has to fight not to outright shudder.

"Which means you have to look your best. Now stop whining, we’re almost done.”

Steve doubts that, but it doesn’t matter; he never had a choice to begin with.

xXx

Four hours, one shower, and several rounds of his mother’s nagging and meticulous styling, ,Steve finds himself back in Hawkin’s High, staring at the gym.

His mother had long swept past him, having spotted some high school friends and gone over to lord her lifestyle and general wealth over them.

For a fundraiser, the charity board in charge had spared no expense in dressing the gym up. Red, pink and white balloons decorated the doorways and a large stage hauled to one end.

Tables with thick, white table cloth are artfully arranged about the floor, caterers swiftly moving between them.

This is probably the fanciest this gym has ever looked, and Steve wants to be anywhere but inside it.

“Oh--Steve.” A gentle voice says next to him, and Steve turns his head in surprise to see Chrissy Cunningham look nervously up at him. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Me neither honestly.” He tells her, watching the way that makes the younger woman smile. “But I’ve been volun-told to be auctioned off. What about yourself?”

Chrissy runs her hands down her dress, a modest if not beautiful blue halter dress , wincing as she snags a nail on it. “The school held a vote at lunch about who would represent the school tonight. All of the varsity cheerleaders and basketball players were involved.”

“I see.” Steve says, keeping his voice gentle and playful. There had always been a part of Chrissy that had reminded him of El. Someone who needed kind words in their life. “You got voted as tonight’s sacrifice, huh?”

Chrissy laughs at that, hand flying to cover her mouth. “I guess you could say that.” She says, and seems surprised at herself for it.

“Did Jason get picked too?” Steve asks. It would make sense if he was, the guy was the basketball Captain after all.

Chrissy nods, then chews on her lip. “Yes but--he’s not happy about it,”

Steve snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. “None of us are.”

“It’s more that I’m being auctioned off.”

Chrissy must catch the look on his face because she rushes to add; “You know, like any boyfriend would be! I know it’s just supposed to be a fun silly thing and they’re not really dates but…” She trails off, voice growing quieter at the end. “He worries.”

The word “worry” sounds like it means something else entirely.

Steve feels for her.

“Hey, if Jason’s an ass about it, let me know.” Steve says after a moment of shared silence. “You don’t deserve to deal with him being a kid about this shit.”

Chrissy blinks up at him at that, hand almost to her mouth as though she’d subconsciously raised them up to chew on her nails. “Thanks Steve. That’s nice of you.” She whispers it, and Steve nods and smiles at her.

“There you two are!” A woman says, rushing over with a clipboard. “Steve Harrington and Chrissy Cunningham, right? We’re gathering all the dates behind those doors.” She turns and points to the opposite end of the gym. “If you both would follow me please?”

Steve motions for Chrissy to go first, and moves to follow her when a flash of curls crushed down by a blur of white, blue and electric yellow catches his eye.

He turns automatically, seeking it out and sure enough, ducking down the hall is Henderson, Sinclair hot on his heels.

A familiar mixture of emotions lights up Steve’s spine, and he knows immediately he won’t be able to rest until he figures out what the gremlins are up to--because their Hellfire Club was supposedly canceled today on grounds that Munson had stolen a microphone, or some other crap.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll join you in a second!” Steve calls, before darting down the hall, after them.

[obikin-events]

Reveals are here!!

If you haven’t changed your date, you can find out here how to do so!

You can still create and post treats if you so wish to do so! 

Otherwise, sit back and enjoy all of the amazing fic and art that was created for this exchange! Don’t forget to kudos and comment!

May the Obikin Be With You.

[lilac-hecox]

So, @wispmotherr and I discussed doing a fun little gift exchange for Februrary/Valentine's Day and thus the Valentine's Exchange was born! (Really all thanks to @wispmotherr for creating the server and writing the rules. This would not be happening without her!)

I'll give you a little breakdown of the explanation/rules:

This event is 18+

The exchange is open to fics, art, edits, other fan created content

Sign-ups are now until January 7th. (Late sign-ups are fine but be mindful of the due date of February 18th)

The exchange will happen February 18th.

The exchange hub will be on Discord on a server created for the event.

As this is an event where you are making something for someone else secretly, we ask that if you do not think you can create something in the timeframe to please not sign-up as we do not want to have people not receive a gift.

Mainly, this is a way to have fun and spread some love to others in our Smoshblr community! I hope to see participants!

Huge, huge thank you to the always amazing @wiggog-y-hecox who made the graphics and rules video for this exchange!!

[leftoverdinosaurbones]

Drawn Together

One-shot: Gortash x fem!Tav

This is a gift for @nusaran for the Elfsong Tavern’s Valentine’s Day gift exchange. Thanks for the fun prompts!!

Content Warning: NSFW (minors do not interact), little bit of smut (afab Tav), house fire

Summary:

It's a day of celebration at the Elfsong Tavern, which is bursting at the seams with decorations, ale, and patrons. Everyone is eager to partake in the festivities and express their love for one another.

Well, almost everyone.

Your mind is elsewhere tonight. You have yet to find your soulmate, though one person in particular has been consuming your thoughts. And he isn't the type to attend a party at the Elfsong Tavern. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be, anyway.

Set in game during Act 3 (spoilers!). You can read it below or on ao3.

Gale is in particularly high spirits this morning.

He hums softly and smiles to himself, like someone just shared the most delightful secret with him.

His hands work in their practiced way, pulling the most beautiful decorations from the weave. Soft pink pastels dance among deep burgundies while pearl white accents twist them together, joined by garlands of flowers. It reminds you of home. Of celebrations with your friends, your family. Of a lighter time, seemingly lifetimes ago.

His outlook on life has taken a turn for the positive these days, though you suppose having a new lease on life could do that for a man. Only just a few days ago, you convinced him not to sacrifice himself to the netherbrain - instead, you believed that he was worth sacrificing for. Even if that meant more danger in the future, or an unknown path. We would all do it, together.

You grip a bit tighter to the warm mug in your hands as you walk over to Gale.

“What are we celebrating?” You ask, coyly.

“Oh,” Gale breathes out with a deep, content sigh. He drops his attention from the weave and focuses his eyes on yours.

“You must know what day it is! What we are celebrating! We partook in the festival each and every year back home in Waterdeep. I assumed it was well-known in Baldur’s Gate as well, but given your reaction - and Astarion’s as well - perhaps you’ve been suffering without such a holiday your entire lives! Please, allow me to explain it to you. It is a celebration of love - the divine and sacred bonds between family, treasured friends, and lovers.”

His hand reaches out for your arm, gently squeezing near your shoulder before letting his hand drop back to his side.

“I just wanted to thank you, again. I know that I truly cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. For every single thing you do for me. You’ve made me start to believe in myself again - to believe that I am worth lifelong friendship… and perhaps even love.”

Your eyes dart away from his to look towards the ground. He is being so vulnerable and forthcoming with you, like always. But you can’t help having this wall up between you, holding you back from letting him in. You bring your mug up to your lips to distract from the growing silence.

“…perhaps even love, with someone, one day,” Gale relents. “I know we are only fated to be friends, and I respect that. Our friendship means the world to me, I hope you realize that.”

Gale’s words are warm and sincere. You return his kind words with a soft smile, looking back up at him.

“I really appreciate your friendship too, Gale.” You settle down on a seat nearby to watch as he brings the weave back to vibrant life.

You know, deep in your heart, that Gale will find his perfect match. At least they will be relatively easy to recognize, given the unique scar decorating his chest.

While many people form relationships - largely temporary - with others without matching scars, that idea never appealed to you. Oh, perhaps a stolen night here and there, but never anything real. You couldn’t see opening yourself up to someone, to let them in so deep, just to have them leave you for their real soulmate.

Your eyes scan the room at the Elfsong Tavern until you find Astarion. He is sitting on the ground, cross-legged and hunched over something he was working on in his lap. His scowl is present in every feature of his face - his lips drawn into a tight frown, his forehead knit together in frustration, his eyes narrowed. You assume he is bitter about the festival, and it goes beyond the fact that romance makes him feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.

This festival would only serve as another reminder of the many impacts of his vampiric affliction. Though otherwise a good thing, his skin can heal on its own - therefore, he has no scars. He will never be sure of his soulmate like the rest of us. And so he certainly can’t be sure that Wyll is his soulmate.

Time and time again, Wyll has offered reassurance to Astarion. Wyll will claim that the matching scars don’t matter to him, that he knows what is in his heart, that his love will never stray to another. But you can see the fear behind Astarion’s eyes. And you understand it.

Even now, you see Wyll crouch down next to Astarion and start to rub his shoulders, leaning to whisper something in his ear. Astarion flinches from his touch, reflexively. You look away to give them at least a modicum of privacy within this shared living space.

Swirling the liquid in your mug, your mind is pulled back into the events from the other day, when you entered Wyrm’s Rock. After your confrontation with the guard and the Steel Watchers at the bridge, you were surprised to receive an invitation to Gortash’s coronation. Though, from everything you heard of the man, he did seem a bit full of himself. Of course he would demand your attendance to that charade of an event, in his honor. Especially after you so easily defeated Ketheric.

You aren’t entirely sure why you accepted a strategic alliance with Gortash. He was clearly a better choice than Orin, though logic could also assume that you need not choose to ally with either of your enemies. His words were tempting, a seemingly genuine and alluring offer of shared power.

But that wasn’t what tempted you. The way he moved towards you with cool confidence. His tall figure loomed over you as he drew near. He didn’t have the same physical presence as someone like Halsin, but he frightened you all the same. He didn’t need it to appear formidable. To be imposing.

When he gripped your hand in partnership, you could swear he held on for just a moment longer than necessary. His dark eyes lingered on yours before trailing, slowly, down your body. Your heart lept into your throat as a flush of heat warmed your face and brightened the tips of your ears.

You tore your eyes away from his, embarrassment washing over you. Though, admittedly, this wasn’t the only feeling you were experiencing… You hadn’t felt those kinds of stirrings within you before. Not for any of your companions, despite their (many) advances.

No. You shook your head to try to distance yourself from such thoughts. A man like that, a follower of Bane, knows how to pull you into his web. This isn’t personal - it’s his own strategic manipulation, just like he used Karlach.

“Here.” You are startled out of your memories by a tight, strained voice. You look up to see Astarion handing Gale a delicate, embroidered heart.

***

The Elfsong Tavern is a sight to behold tonight. Gale, as convincing as ever, was able to fill the room with decorations for the festival. He stood by the door to greet each patron and provide them with a rousing introduction to the holiday, whether they were interested or not.

You find yourself at the bar, sipping on a glass of wine. You glance around the room as it is filled with joyful guests. Some were paired off and dancing - Wyll gracefully led Astarion as they danced together. You recognize it as one Wyll had been practicing on his own for several nights at camp.

Others were locked together in deep conversation; Lae’zel and Shadowheart among them. Over the past few months, you’ve watched their relationship move from enemies to friends. You saw perhaps a hint of something deeper, here and there, but they didn’t seem ready yet to admit that to themselves. You smile into your wine as you take in a deep drink.

Karlach and Halsin were making their rounds throughout the tavern. Halsin made fast friends wherever he could, offering stories and friendship to anyone who might be in need of it. Karlach, with her recent upgrades and ability to touch people, was very eager to make up for lost time.

All around you, people were happy. Your companions were coupling up - perhaps not with their soulmates, no. But at least they had some companionship, some connection. Why does it matter if it is only temporary? You might not even make it through all of this alive.

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself away from the bar and walk out to the front patio. You rest your forearms on the railing, closing your eyes. No one at the tavern caught your interest, anyway.

Your mind begins to drift, filling with ‘what ifs’. What if Gortash were at this party? Would he even notice you? Has he been thinking of you? Does he feel as ridiculous as you do, pining over someone after one simple interaction? What if...

The smell of smoke fills your nostrils and rips you away from your thoughts. Your eyes snap open, scanning the sky for smoke. You see a small plume of it begin to stack and rise into the air. You feel your legs propel you towards it before you can even register your actions - you know you don’t have much time to think about a plan of action before it’s too late.

Soon, you arrive in front of a small home. Through the window, you can see the flames rising, building up in strength. Amid the smoke, you see a figure, hunched over and immobilized in fear. You cast misty step to get inside the house.

“I’m here to help!” you call out to the person over the roar of flames. They lift their head towards you, their face contorted between fear and hope. You see a back window nearby, close enough that they could escape.

“Step to the side!” you command, and they dive for shelter out of your path. You cast thunderwave to bust open the window so they can make their escape. Glass explodes out through the back, allowing enough space for the person to make a quick leave. However, the new opening allowed for a rush of fresh air to flood the house, adding new fuel to the fire.

The flames leap up with greater force, tongues lashing at the ceiling and quickly melting through the thatches of the roof. The force and ferocity of the flames knock you back, breaking your concentration. You lost the small opportunity you had to fly out of the house after casting your spell.

The walls of flames burn hotter around you and smoke starts to fill your lungs. Panicking, you fall to the ground, desperate for air, throat burning. If you had only taken the time to think, for even just a moment, perhaps you’d have called for help from Karlach before leaving the tavern. Or you could have asked for a Steel Watcher on your way.

One last idea comes to your mind as your body begins to shut down for self-preservation. You feel your magic build within you as you summon everything left inside. Eyes blurry, the spell leaves your lips in a whisper.

Slowly, heavy droplets begin to build into a steady downpour, dampening the roar of the flames. You welcome the stinging rain as bit at your cheeks, offering relief from the heat gathered on your cheeks. Coughing, you struggled to try to get up, weak from the inhaled smoke and spent magic.

Through your blurry peripheral, you notice a figure enter the house. Could it be one of your companions, looking for you? Grateful, you remained on the ground and raised a hand, hoping they could notice you and help you out of this mess. Heavy steps come briskly towards you, and you feel one arm scoop up under your knees while the other holds your back. They lift you up into their arms to carry you out of the building.

Exhausted, you let your head fall against their chest, clutching the fabric of their jacket with your hand. Rain continues to pour even outside of the house (how strong was that spell?). Completely soaked, you begin to shiver, in violent contrast to the state you were in only moments ago. They hold you tighter to their chest as they walk briskly, tirelessly, down the street.

Finally, you are able to open your eyes and register the direction you are going.

“The Elfsong Tavern is the other way,” you mumble softly, bringing your eyes back to your hand that is pressed against their chest. You freeze, a jolt sent straight down your spine. This body doesn’t feel familiar to you. Against all better judgment, you will yourself to look up.

You see his long black hair, plastered down against his face from the pouring rain. The rain traces his cheekbones and small wrinkle lines, outlining his features. His dark eyes catch yours. They look right through you, piercing, hardened, angry. Your body tenses as you flatten your palms against his chest, ready to push yourself away.

He lifts your body up slightly to press his lips into the top of your head.

“Don’t.” He whispers before bringing you back down again and pressing you against his chest.

You aren’t sure why, but you listen to him. You close your eyes and lean your head back into his chest.

***

Finally, you are inside. Warmth burns your cheeks, though your body is freezing from the wet clothes clinging to your body. You are brought to a room where he gently sets you down on a chair. He hands you a health potion, which you quickly drink without a second thought. The liquid starts to work immediately, repairing your raw throat and the other, thankfully minor, injuries from the fire.

Gortash bends over a hearth, coaxing up the flames. You are surprised to see him like this - Lord Enver Gortash, on his knees, making a fire for you?

He crosses the room in a couple of broad steps, soon standing at your feet.

“We need to get you out of these wet clothes.” Gortash extends his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow up at him.

“Unless you want to get sick, and make an embarrassingly easy target for Orin.”

Of course. That is what this is about. He is simply protecting his business partner. Protecting his assets.

You roll your eyes, feeling self-conscious about your earlier thoughts and curiosities about your potential relationship. You take Gortash’s hand with an aggravated huff, masking your hurt feelings and slightly wounded pride with a show of annoyance.

He brings his gold-adorned hands up to your shoulders. His fingers linger near the straps of your dress, the metal tips of his gauntlet ghosting your skin. Gently, he slips the straps off to the side of your shoulders. Surprised by the softness of his touch, a small gasp escapes your mouth.

He touches your shoulders again, urging you to turn around. You give in, the tips of your ears turning bright red as you face away from him. His fingertips drag, slowly, from your shoulders to the middle of your back. Though his touch is gentle, it scorches your skin, sending waves of white-hot heat through your body. You tighten your hands into fists, nails biting into your palms and bite your bottom lip to stifle any unintended sounds that threaten to escape.

His fingers find purchase on your zipper and he pulls it down, opening your dress to the bottom of your back. He brings his hands up to the top of your dress and drags it down your body, the wet fabric clinging desperately to your skin. He follows it down your body, around the dip of your waist, over the curve of your hips, down to your ankles, then helps you step out of dripping cloth. He hangs the fabric over a chair near the fire, with care. Who is this man?

You try to make sense of this. He is just helping you. Helping his business partner.

You turn back around to face him. The hair on your body stands on end as goosebumps fill your exposed skin. Gortash steps back in front of you, closer this time.

He reaches his hand to catch your jaw in his grip, the metal tips biting into your skin. He lifts your chin up, eyes blazing as he takes you in. Eager to consume you. You struggle to pull away, to shield yourself from his hunger, but his grip on your jaw is steadfast.

He swipes the pad of his thumb across your chin, tracing a faint scar. A deep sigh rumbles within his chest. With his free hand, he brings yours up to his face. You copied his movements, placing your fingers along his jaw, running your thumb along the scar on his chin…

Wait.

Wait.

No. That’s…that’s just a common scar. So many people have scars on their face. It will take more than just this to convince you.

With trembling hands, you reach up to unlace his shirt. You fumble a bit, unsure if it’s because of nerves or the sloppy way in which he laced it in the first place. Finally, you grasp the bottom of his shirt and pull it up over his chest, peeling off the wet fabric as it clings to his skin. You take in the sight of him, the fire casting a dim light and deep shadows across his features. Your eyes trail along his warm, tanned skin, watching the subtle flex of the muscles in his arms as he pulls the shirt over his head. Dark hair, damp and lightly glistening, decorated his chest down to his stomach, disappearing in the waistband of his pants.

But, most importantly, your eyes land on a spot on his side. Impulsively, you reach out a hand to trace the line etched into his skin, a jagged edge, poorly healed. You hadn’t been able to stitch it up well enough to prevent the lasting mark. And here it is - reflected in another.

You drew in a sharp breath as the reality of this situation came crashing down into you. Enver Gortash: The man who kidnapped your friend’s father. The man who betrayed your friend and damned her to the hells. The man who controls the Netherbrain, and wants to rule over all of Faerûn.

Your soulmate.

Gortash laces his fingers into yours and leads you to the bed nearby. He sits you down on the bed and steps back. His hands move, slowly, to unbuckle his pants.

You bite your lips, holding your breath.

He let his pants fall to his ankles, kicking away the gathered fabric at his feet. Your eyes flick down below his waist for just a moment, long enough to glimpse the size of him straining at his undergarments. Gortash meets your wide eyes with a lazy half-smile, the knowing smile of a man with a dangerous amount of self-confidence.

He parts your legs to stand between them, raking the sharp points of his nails up and down your thighs. You shiver, feeling a burning need start to wind up inside your core.

He continues his exploration, hands running slowly over your hips, your waist, and dragging up to your breasts. He cups one in each hand, massaging gently before bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks and swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, pinching your other nipple with his hand. You cry out, throwing your head back as you tangle your hands in his damp hair.

He releases you from his mouth to continue his slow worship of your skin, leaving soft kisses up your chest and over your shoulder. Once he reaches your neck, his kisses get more needy, more desperate. He opens his mouth to bite - hard. You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist to press him closer to you. You know that are already leaking through your panties, and that doesn’t stop you from trying to grind your hips against him, making sure he feels just how badly you want him.

His mouth is replaced by his hand over your throat, metal-tipped nails digging sharply into your skin as he dulls your air supply. You bring your hands to the one at your neck, but his grip is firm. Your thoughts are swimming as you pull in shallow breaths, and you claw at his grip in vain. As he takes more and more from you, your need for him only deepens.

He pushes you back on the bed, caging you in with his arms around your head. A moment passes as you look at each other, his pupils blown.

You bring his head towards yours, inviting him in. His lips meet yours, tentatively at first, then mad with fervor - clashing against yours like a man starved. His tongue dances against yours, exploring your mouth, desperate to taste all of you. Your nails dug for purchase across his back as he groans into your mouth. You line your hips up with his, grinding yourself against his clothed erection, soaking it through. You wanted more, needed more of him, clawing and pulling at him to press you both together.

He breaks from the kiss, panting, and pushes his body off of yours.

“Ilyana.” Gortash says your name with confidence, possession. Hearing your name from his lips did something to you. You arch your back, keening towards him, wanting him - needing him - to take you. He slips off your panties and removes his last layer. You watch as his hard cock springs loose from his clothes, the tip of it already glistening with precum. Your body aches, desperate for him. He watches you writhe with anticipation as he slowly strokes himself.

“I have been waiting forever to find you. To have you. And now, you are mine.”

[destielvalentinesexchange]

Destiel Valentine's Exchange

Ao3 Collection Sign up form

SCHEDULE: (All deadlines are 11:59PM UTC on the date specified. Guidelines for extensions are in RULES section.) 20 December - Sign-ups open 31 December - Sign-ups close 07 February - Works Due 13 February - Potential Pinch Hits and Extensions Due 14 February - Gifts Revealed

MINIMUMS: Fic must be 1,000 words minimum. Art must be a completed sketch

RULES:

1) YOU MUST BE 18 OR OLDER BY DECEMBER 20, 2023 TO PARTICIPATE. Anyone found breaking this rule will be banned from this exchange, all future iterations of it, and any other events that I run.

2) Be respectful of all other participants. If there are any issues, please contact me through the exchange Tumblr account and we will work together to solve it.

3) Respect Do Not Wants (DNWs) and use common sense – if someone requests fluff and doesn’t DNW torture, they probably still don’t want torture unless otherwise requested.

4) All other romantic/sexual ships are OPT-IN. Do not include background ships that have not been opted in. These should only be background relationships and creation must focus on Destiel. If you opt into a background ship, it is not a guarantee that your creator will include it.

5) All Archive Warnings are OPT-IN, no exceptions. Do not include Major Character Death, Rape/Non-con, Graphic Depictions of Violence, or Underage unless your recipient requests it. If you opt into an Archive Warning, it is not a guarantee that your creator will include it.

6) To request an extension, contact me on the exchange's Tumblr account through asks or DMs. Include your Ao3 handle and how long of an extension you need. You don't need to give a reason or explanation, just a heads-up so that I don't give your assignment to someone else.

7) If you for some reason cannot complete your work, hit the "Default" button next to your assignment in your Ao3 "Assignments" page. No reason or explanation is necessary, but please do this sooner rather than later if you are sure that you will not be able to complete your creation.

Send any questions through asks or messages on this account and I'll get back to you as soon as possible <3 Be sure to follow for updates and reminders if you're interested!

[astarioffsimpmain]

A Darling Evening (Tali & Astarion)

[Screenshots by @snowfolly]

Astarion x Taliesin Straeth (Snowy's OC)

Warnings: None; fluff!

Synopsis: Astarion finds a way to turn a rainy evening into something romantic.

Author's Note: This is my gift to @snowfolly for the Astarion Brainrot Valentine's Day Gift Exchange! Their OC Tali was a lot of fun to write, and I'm happy to post this here for them! <3

She huffed, a frown creasing her features as the rain pattered against the windowpane. "I was going to test our new find today. But no birds are going to be out in this weather." 

"And what exactly is that little trinket supposed to do again, Tali darling?" Astarion asked, deep in concentration as he stitched a design into one of her hats. 

"This little trinket," she produced a whistle the size of a pen from her pocket and slipped it through several of her fingers, admiring it. "Is supposed to make birds fly backwards for as long as they hear the song." 

"And when the little feathered twits end up crashing against a tree-?"

"They don't! That's the beauty of it. It's as though they don't even know they're flying backwards. They can see just as well as if they're flying forwards. The birds will never know the difference. But we will. We get a free show." She chuckled, tooting a note from the flute with a wiggle of her head before letting her hand fall back to her side as she sent a sidelong glance at the rain outside; staring deprecatingly at it as though it would cease just to lift her mood. 

"Well, my love, I am afraid the birds must wait." Astarion replied absent-mindedly, his brow creasing as he doubled back on a stitch that was not cooperating. 

"Well, what in the hells am I supposed to do now? And before you suggest it, I am not reading another one of the books Gale sent over right now. I'm not sure I can stomach more jargon on dissecting the magical properties of the Orevine plant." You rolled your eyes and your lover chuckled from where he sat. She leaned against the windowsill and stared at him, softening as she observed the wrinkles on his forehead and the laugh lines on the outsides of his eyes - things he would perpetually deny having as an eternally young creature of the night, but things she loved nonetheless. His eyes scanned his work tirelessly, obsessed with getting everything just right. He was a perfectionist through and through with his creations, which was surprising, considering the amount of chaos he wrought in most other areas of his undead life. But he plopped his work down suddenly and met her fuschia gaze with his discerning crimson one. 

"Well, darling, if all you plan to do for the rest of the afternoon is stare at me, then I suppose I must find something for us to do, hm? However much I enjoy seeing you observe my beauty." She scoffed and rolled her eyes at the tease, but a smile threatened to cross her lips nonetheless. She quirked a brow at him, curious to see what he had in mind. In the perfect image of beauty and grace, he rose from the chair he was perched in and swept through the small kitchen of the cabin the two of them had been staying in for around a week now and down the stairs of the adjacent door. The owners were… probably, on vacation somewhere, and had left a stocked-enough cellar for Tali to live on until she and Astarion decided to move on, or the owners decided to return. She padded down the steps after him and found him rummaging around a worn iron storage container before pulling out a bottle of mead, a block of cheese, and a small box of strawberries. “It isn’t a strawberry tart, darling, but it’ll have to do.” he mused, turning the box this way and that to see how the fruit was faring. 

He seemed to decide it was worthy of his lover after several seconds of looking it over and nodded curtly to himself, turning around and traipsing back up the steps with Tali on his heels. “Take these out in the rain and wash them off, won’t you, love?” Astarion smiled sweetly, a hint of flattery glimmering in his red-wine eyes. 

Tali merely laughed, taking the box of strawberries from him and stepping out onto the porch. There was a generous overhang, so she remained mostly dry as she held each strawberry out into the pouring rain and brushed off any possible dust or other unseen remnants with the pads of her fingers before gathering them back into the box and bringing it back in to where her lover was waiting, an apron acquired from gods know where, fastened around his slim waist and a knife in hand. “Oh, is my darling lover going to bake something for me?” Tali nudged playfully and Astarion scoffed. 

“Don’t get carried away, love.” he prodded her with his elbow as she came up beside him. “You know my specialty is to cut up, not put together.” he grinned over his shoulder at her, showing his fangs, before beginning the process of slicing their snacks. Tali chuckled and sidled up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back, humming as his laughter rumbled through her. She melted into him, allowing her eyes to fall closed as she recognized yet again how lucky they were to have found each other, especially after all they had suffered. Love was never supposed to be in the cards for her again, not after Margot. A small pang clenched her chest at the memory of her first love, but it was different now than it had been in the past. While she still held regrets, and knew she always would, there was a new sense of peace that had found her, and she knew her vampire was to thank for it. 

“If I am to make a new life after all of the pain I caused,” he would often say to her, “then you can as well.” He loved to use her words against her, but to bring her peace instead of suffering, and while it was all the more irritating that the advice was her own, she was thankful for the reminders. She smiled and nuzzled her nose in between his shoulder blades, taking in a slow breath of his bergamot, rosemary and brandy scent. There was an edge to the scent, one she knew to be his natural decayed skin, and she smiled. One of the first comments she had made once they made their relationship official was how much she liked that extra tang of his natural scent mixed with his cologne. She had nearly laughed her head off when he had looked at her with so much shock and affront that he resembled a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “You’re mad.” he had settled on as a response, grinning and shaking his head in disbelief. 

Tali giggled softly against Astarion’s back at the memory and he offered her a glance over his shoulder. “What are you giggling about like a madwoman back there, my darling? It is quite distracting.” His tone was chiding, but she knew there was a smile on his face and wriggled against him. 

“Just remembering when I told you I liked your natural scent.” 

“Oh gods, yes. I knew you were just mad enough for me when you proudly proclaimed being aroused by the scent of rot. It was all over for me at that very moment, pup.”

A cackle burst forth from her lips then and she let go of her lover to clutch her stomach. “I- hahaha! I think the f-fact that… ahahahah! That I liked you covered in gore hahaha! Would have been a sign! Ah hahaha!”

Astarion smiled down at the strawberries he resumed cutting in triumph, pleased with himself for lightening his dear Tali’s previously soured mood. He would never say the words out loud, but he couldn’t bear it when she was upset. She was his light, his sunbeam in his world otherwise plunged in darkness, and when she was down, a painfully tight coil squeezed around his undead heart. 

They chatted for awhile longer while Astarion finished with the snacks and uncorked the mead. "Well, my love, it seems as though they don't have very fine glasses for their liquor, which is a true shame, but I've found something that will do for now." He tutted as he pulled several well-worn glasses from the cupboard and wiped them out with a cloth. He had placed the cubes of cheese and slices of strawberry onto a plate and gestured for Tali to grab it and the glasses. Once her hands were full, he took the bottle of mead in hand and made for the front door. Dusk was fast approaching, but where a sunny day would have made it impossible for the vampire to be out at this hour, the rain had provided enough cloud cover that he was able to step out with ease. 

"Alright, those go here." He pointed to the short table that sat a few feet from the door and Tali relieved her hands of her haul. Astarion set the mead down between the two glasses, then turned to look at her expectantly. 

"Okay… what now?" Tali crossed her arms and chuckled at her lover's antics. 

"What do you mean, "what now?" Come now, love, you do remember how camping works, don't you? Pillows, blankets, anything to keep the ground from feeling like what it is. Off with you!" He shooed her towards the door with wild gesticulations and a laugh burst from her mouth. 

"Well why can't you get them, my big strong vampire?" She teased, referring to his boost in strength post-tadpole. 

"I had the idea, and I handled the food, darling, now it's your turn. You knew you were the manual labor in this relationship the moment you agreed to it, don't deny it." He tsked, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Alright, alright." Tali chuckled, getting to work. 

Soon, all the pillows and blankets in the house had been pooled onto the front porch where Tali and Astarion were now curled up. "The candles were a nice touch, my love." Tali murmured, glancing over to the single candelabras that held the family's bedside table candles, each one lit and waving gently in the cool night breeze. 

"Mmm I am known to be quite the connoisseur of romance, you know." He crooned from where his head lay in her lap. 

"Oh yeah?" Tali giggled, her fingers continuing a tender path through his soft curls. 

"Mhmm" Astarion hummed, his eyes closing as he pressed into his lover's gentle touch. 

"Well, I must say I agree, Mr. Ancunin. You have won me over, although at times quite begrudgingly." A smile quirked his lips, his only response to her ribbing. It wasn’t satisfactory enough for Tali though, who leaned down to press a long, amorous kiss to his beautiful plump lips; one he responded to immediately, threading his long fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head and neck. 

"I love you, Astarion." She muttered against his mouth and he chuckled softly, his breath hitting her lips. 

"I know, my darling… and you've won me over as well." He replied, pulling her lips to his once more. 

fin

[hecoxthirst]

Title: Ivy and forget-me-nots

For @lilac-hecox

Rating: General audiences

Tags: Alternative universe, soulmates, tattoos/birthmarks, angst, fluff, happy ending, fan art.

Summary: Everyone in the world is born with a little bud drawn on their inner wrist, that changes over time. This is the story of Ian and Anthony's relationship told through those changes.

Read on AO3

♡ ♡ ♡

Everyone in the world is born with a little bud drawn on their inner wrist.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

It looks like a tattoo, but it’s more like a birthmark, and it changes over time. The style of it and even what real life plant it resembles is not the same for everyone.

When Ian first meets Anthony, he’s just a kid. He hasn’t put much thought into his mark, yet. He knows it will start to change when he meets his soulmate. He is excited to notice the first changes after only knowing him for a few weeks.

He can’t stop looking at it. From the base of his wrist, long thin stems have begun to grow. Small buds open up over time, revealing tiny, pale blue flowers.

“Looks like forget-me-nots.” His mother casually comments. He blushes and pulls down his sleeve, like any prepubescent kid would do when confronted about their crush.

Ian feels lucky to feel such a strong bond with his soulmate already. And they met so young too! This is great. It means they’ll get to spend the rest of their lives, the majority of their lives, together. Some aren’t as lucky and only get to see their mark bloom much later in life, spending their young years wondering if their soulmate is actually out there somewhere.

He has no doubt it’s Anthony.

Twisting vines have started to sprout from his wrist, and the first leaves appeared when Ian agreed to stay overnight so they can work on Anthony’s website.

Anthony always dreamed about meeting his soulmate in the most romantic circumstances possible. He had a whole romance movie in his head. He didn’t expect his mark to start growing after spending a day drawing swirly poops with flies around them, but he can’t be mad about it.

Something about Ian immediately caught his attention. It’s the way he laughs so easily at his jokes, and the way he’s so effortlessly funny, making Anthony laugh too. Plus, he’s really cute, which is a nice bonus.

Anthony knows soulmates can have complicated relationships, but he knows it’s even worse when people ‘settle’ for someone who isn’t their soulmate.

His mother never found hers. She married once, but it wasn’t the one. Things worked out in the end for their family, sure, but Anthony still can’t help but think that there’s gotta be someone out there who would be the perfect fit. He can’t help himself, he’s a romantic.

This is why he’s beyond excited to get to spend every second of every day with Ian. They are inseparable. Their respective parents already talk about how they make a cute couple, they have also become acquainted with each other knowing they will be in-laws eventually.

And Anthony believes this too. He is too young to do anything now, but he can’t wait to be old enough to propose.

Despite this, they don’t do anything explicitly romantic besides holding hands. Their bond is so strong. They are destined to be together, there’s no need to rush things.

Still, Anthony’s feelings grow stronger every day, just like the ivy climbing up his arm.

It’s hard to know if Ian feels the same, sometimes. But Anthony can’t doubt their love. He has to believe.

Finding your soulmate this young is actually pretty rare. 

Soon, most people just kinda know they found the one. It’s easy to tell, just looking at their marks. Not everyone knows they are each other’s soulmates, but most people who know them do.

They have their first kiss when they are fifteen.

Neither of them had the chance to date other people, so neither of them has experience with this stuff. Anthony asks Ian out on their first ‘official’ date - yes, Ian, it’s different than just hanging out! It’s- it’s just different, trust me.

They fumble awkwardly, bumping noses and not knowing what to do with their hands, but after a brief moment they both burst into giggles.

“Oh.”

“See, I told you it would be different.”

“Can we, uh…”

“Do it again?”

“Yeah.”

Anthony’s smile couldn’t be brighter. If he smiled any harder than this it would hurt. He cups Ian’s face this time, making sure to measure the distance so they won’t bump into each other or press too hard this time. He connects their lips softly, and he feels Ian tremble slightly.

This is the happiest he’s ever been.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

As years pass, their marks don’t change much, but they stay just as luxuriant. Ian’s with his pretty blue flowers and Anthony with his lush green leaves.

Life moves along, Smosh becomes something bigger than they had ever imagined, so much that it feels like a lot to handle on their own. So when a company approaches them with the idea of buying it from them, it sounds really appealing.

It’s great at first. They have a bigger budget than they have ever had, the production quality of their videos skyrockets, but… over time, it becomes clear that something’s not right.

There’s this fragile equilibrium. It’s a pendulum swinging, it’s a glass set on the edge of a counter, it’s a sword hanging over both of their heads.

As Anthony grows angrier and more resentful, the ivy on his skin turns into something uglier he can’t even recognize.

On Ian’s arm, tiny blue petals begin to fall, crowding around his wrist like a bracelet he can’t take off. One by one they fade, until all that’s left is these sad, dried up stems.

Every time Ian gets a glimpse of the thorny mess on Anthony’s wrist, his stomach churns. He tries as hard as he can to ignore it. There’s already so much going on, they have so many projects. He can’t afford to stop and think too hard about what this means.

He’s heard the stories and he’s seen the movies. It’s never a good sign when someone’s mark changes so much for the worse.

Anthony feels like he’s trapped. Smosh, this beautiful thing they created together, which represents their friendship and their shared sense of humor, is being turned into some kind of creature he doesn’t recognize, something that has a life of its own and he has no control over it anymore. He feels lost and hurt, and it only gets worse when he’s finally brave and broaches the subject to Ian.

Of course Ian won’t leave with him. Look at those withering, dry stems on his arm. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Anthony knows Ian stopped loving him a while ago.

With Anthony gone, Ian finds himself wearing a lot of long sleeved shirts. He’s tired of people assuming, or even worse, asking about his soulmate. He doesn’t want anyone to see what a sad, pathetic little thing his mark was reduced to.

All flowers fell long ago, and gradually those little stems are bending down, falling over, breaking. Soon, there’s nothing left. It’s like it was never even there. It almost looks like he doesn’t have a mark at all, which in a way is a relief.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

Years go by, and Ian never really stops missing Anthony, but the pain becomes more dull over time. He convinces himself that he doesn’t need, he doesn’t even want, a soulmate.

That is, until his friend brings it up. He avoids talking about Anthony when he can, but he trusts her enough to mention him, and she asks to see his mark.

He pulls away. He hasn’t shown it to anyone in years. But she’s gentle and he eventually gives in, offering his left arm to her. He can’t look at it. He knows what she will see. He feels her lift up his sleeve. When she says nothing, it bothers him enough to look at her to see her reaction.

She has this little smile on her face.

“What?” He asks, befuddled.

“Are you so sure you’re over him?”

He is confused. Until he sees her eyes dart downwards. He follows them until his own fall on his mark, and… his heart squeezes almost painfully. A small, pale, delicate flower has blossomed again after so long.

“Uh… that’s nothing. It doesn’t mean- I- I can’t.”

He panics, retreating his arm into his lap, hastily covering up his traitorous mark.

He’s been watching Anthony from afar. He can’t bring himself to watch through a single video, but he’s seen what his soulmate has been up to. He finally found his footing as a creator and he’s enjoying his success. Not just that, but he looks happier now. Happy, period.

Ian thinks ‘good for him’, but part of him can’t help but wonder. Is Anthony happier without him? Is he finally completely over him?

Anthony never hid his mark, unlike Ian. But over time it’s become harder to see it clearly, since he decided to hide it with tattoos. Or, at least that’s how Ian interprets it. He’s sure they have a significance or whatever.

Even so, Ian saw people speculate online. He saw the screenshots. He tries to stay away from that stuff, he blocked his name wherever he could so he wouldn’t have to see people’s comments about it, but even so… it’s inescapable. He stared at the green leaves amongst the thorns and the ink. He hadn’t seen a single leaf on Anthony’s skin in years.

He can’t help the little ember of hope burning in his chest. Maybe that’s why his own mark changed. Whatever he used to feel for Anthony was never truly gone, it’s just… it became harder to see what was so good about their relationship when everything else surrounding it was such a complete mess. But now, with distance, both physical and temporal… it’s easier to see it again.

So when his friend suggests he should reach out… it doesn’t feel completely insane to consider.

They meet - on purpose, with the intention of being in each other’s presence - for the first time since Anthony left.

They are not alone, they brought friends so they’ll have some kind of buffer between them. The idea of being alone with him is overwhelming. Ian doesn’t think he could handle it.

But it goes well. It’s a little awkward, but only for the first few minutes. They are both surprised to find it’s so easy to pick things up where they left them back when they could still call each other friends.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

They have been hanging out semi-regularly on their own for a while now. Ian can’t believe he is about to say this, but nothing has ever felt so right.

He chooses to be brave. If Anthony turns him down, at least he can say he tried.

“This is gonna sound crazy, so bear with me. It’s been on my mind for a while, uh… what if- what if we bought Smosh?”

Before he’s even done talking, Anthony jumps to his feet, unable to contain his excitement.

“Dude, you beat me to it, I was about to say-” he proceeds to go on a rant about everything they could do if they had their old channel back, and it’s clear that he’s put thought into this, it’s not the first time it crosses his mind. Ian can only sit there and listen, and watch him talk animatedly, with fondness blossoming in his heart, and awe painted on his face.

That’s it. There’s the man he fell for, that’s his soulmate he knew. He’s back.

Despite this, he won’t let his hopes up. They can be friends again. It doesn’t mean they are ready to be romantic soulmates again, not so soon, or maybe ever.

They meet at Ian’s house to attempt writing a sketch for the first time in… god, too long. He wonders if they still have it. He hopes so, but he wouldn’t be too shocked if it turns out they’ve changed too much.

They spend hours on this, almost forgetting this is supposed to be work. They are just having so much fun, laughing so hard their sides hurt. It feels like they are little kids again.

By the end, Ian is pretty satisfied with what they created.

Before leaving, Anthony turns to Ian. Ian can’t stop smiling, he’s giddy like he hasn’t been since he was a teen with a crush. To be fair, Anthony isn’t faring much better.

Anthony reaches for Ian’s left arm. Ian rolled up his sleeves without thinking. He is already gulping at the realization that Anthony probably saw his single blue flower, and the thought of what he’ll think about it.

Anthony’s eyes drag along his arm, watching in silent awe. Ian glances down and his eyes widen.

His mark has fully bloomed again over the span of a single afternoon. He hadn’t even noticed, he’s astonished. He knew his mark was sprouting new buds, but he didn’t think they’d all bloom at once so quickly.

“I’ve never seen it like this.” Anthony comments, almost breathless.

“Me neither.”

Anthony smiles at him at the admission. Ian takes one of the hands holding his wrist and turns it over so he can take a look at Anthony’s. He has a feeling, but if he’s wrong he’ll deal with it like an adult.

But whatever he was expecting wasn’t as wonderful as what he actually sees. There’s none of the tangled thorns. In their place, now beautiful ivy sprouts at his wrist and climbs all the way up his arm to his elbow, twisting around his arm.

When Ian glances up, he notices him blushing faintly.

“Yours grew so much in one day too?”

“No…” Anthony chuckles, shyly ducking his head. “It’s been growing for a while, but it’s even more lush after today.”

“Oh.”

He almost can’t believe this. All this time he thought his hope was unfounded and his feelings weren't reciprocated, at least not in full, but it’s impossible to deny now. The proof is a living, growing thing on Anthony’s skin.

“I’m sorry I interpreted it the wrong way,” Anthony says, once again taking Ian’s hands in his own. “It took me years to understand that it didn’t mean your love was gone, just that your feelings were complicated. Mine were too, I should have known.”

Ian is taken aback by the sincerity, but he gets a hold of himself and shakes his head.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I mean, I looked at yours and I thought it meant you hated me.”

“I could never hate you.” Anthony looks hurt by the mere insinuation, “I was just so angry, because I felt like we were losing control of something that used to be ours, and I needed you to stand by me, and you didn’t. I’m not blaming you, I understand why you couldn’t! But it hurt at the time. And… for a long time, after.”

Anthony squeezes his hands lightly. He can’t believe they are talking about this. He never thought they would talk again at all, let alone have such an earnest and heartfelt conversation. He missed Ian so fucking much, part of him still can’t believe he’s here right now.

“I know that now,” Ian says, “But seeing your ivy turn into that bramble… it was scary. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to say that that part of you is scary, you had a right to be upset–”

Anthony cuts him off, “I get it, it’s okay.” He smiles gently at him, so fondly, Ian almost melts. “Let’s not let our marks speak for us anymore, okay? Let’s use our words.”

Ian smiles back, blushing a bit.

“Yeah… good call.”

He looks away because he can’t stand to hold his gaze, and instead he takes in the beautiful forget-me-nots that now take up a large part of his forearm.

“Man, that’s gonna be hard to hide.” He chuckles. Anthony stays silent, so he looks up and immediately he realizes his mistake. “Not because I want to hide it! I just– sorry. Force of habit. I was hiding it for so long to avoid questions. I, uh…” It’s hard to admit. He feels pathetic, but he knows he’s safe to admit it to Anthony now. “I didn’t want people to pity me.”

Anthony lets go of his hands. Ian begins to panic, but soon he finds he has no reason to because one of Anthony’s hands goes to cup his face instead.

“If you would rather keep it private, I understand. Our bond is none of anyone’s business.”

“What about yours? That looks even harder to hide.”

Anthony shrugs. “I’ll wear long sleeves.”

Ian is so touched. He shakes his head.

“There’s no need to. I’d like people to see it.” He cracks a teasing smile, “You didn’t hide it back then it was at its worst, why hide it now that it’s so gorgeous?”

“If people see it, they’ll know how I feel about you. They’ll know something has changed… they’ll want to know everything, they’ll speculate.”

“Let them.”

Anthony is surprised to hear that. Ian always had this type of attitude, acting unaffected by everything, but he knows that he’s really a private person and this type of thing bothers him.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck it, man.” Ian laughs. “I got my soulmate back. I don’t give a fuck what strangers on the internet have to say about it.”

Anthony can’t help but let his laughter infect him. Without having to think about it too much, he just does the most natural thing he could do. He kisses his soulmate.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

[ekholocationn]

valentine's gift exchange art for @meltingchaos and Holojing of their OCs Biscuit and Crimson <3