#all the parts combine to one with all of us around the sun; everything will fall away; make order from the disarray

[invictarre-archive]

thank you all for your suggestions!

as @hoennhibana and @pumpkaboo-spiced suggested, galar’s big tescos are (colloquially) known as max pinecos

tesco expresses, on the other hand, are pine-gos, inspired by the pun provided by the lovely @animatedxdisaster

[astayinwonderland]

Silk and Fire - Chapter 5

pairing: namjoon x f.reader , jungkook x f. reader

summary: you try to spend all of your time with namjoon but things go south once jungkook shows up at your house

word count: 3.3k

genre: romance | drama | smut +18 MDNI

status: ongoing

You can read about this story and other chapters here.

warnings: use and mentions of alcohol, cheating, consensual intercourse, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (pls don't), cursing, mentions of jealousy, reader goes to a bar, LGBTQ+ themes.

It’s been two weeks. 

Two weeks since you’ve seen or heard from Jungkook, or anyone from the group, even Camille. You decided you should fill your days and nights with that one person, your one and only, your significant other, Namjoon. It was a mistake to let Jungkook trap you in Hoseok’s guest bathroom like that. You should have never let him touch you, the way you basically melted under his touch was wrong. Very wrong. 

So now here you are, feeling another man’s touch. Your man. Lazy make-out sessions with Namjoon are a slice of heaven on Earth. The way his fingertips dance on your skin creating patterns along your arms and thighs is mesmerising and you are drunk on him. His essence, his smell, his lips on yours… Everything about Namjoon is warm and safe, it’s home. 

The sun barely creeps into your shared bedroom, your curtain blinds blocking most of the light. Namjoon smiles against your lips as your hands palm his very evident erection. 

“What’s with you lately?” he asks but continues kissing you. 

“Mmmmm… nothing. What do you mean?” you lie, you know exactly what he means. 

“You are all over me lately. Am I being rewarded for something?” 

“… being the best boyfriend ever,” you reply and kiss him deeply. Not letting him question anything else. 

Namjoon surrenders to you, his strong hands slightly pushing you down to the bed. Pepper kisses land on your jaw, your neck and shoulders. He strips you off your pyjamas and the look on his face when you are completely naked under him is glorious. Lips curved into a smile, his adoring eyes turn dark with lust as he moves his mouth to your core. 

Namjoon starts slowly and temptingly, his dangerous tongue licking your entrance, taking his time. He goes all the way to your clit, subtly sucking on it and then his attention is returned to your needy cunt. He hums in approval as he tastes your arousal, your folds already covered in it. It’s the most perfect nectar to his lips. 

“I wanna drown right here,” he dips his tongue inside your warm cunt. His tongue, expert on how to make you cum again and again, goes in and out of you as his nose presses on your clit with every movement. 

Namjoon spits in your hole, a combination of his saliva and your juices make squelching sounds as he adds two fingers inside you. 

“Fuck, Joonie…” you let a breathy moan out. 

With his fingers curling inside you, the tension in your lower stomach grows and your pussy clenches around his fingers.

“Not yet, babe, I want you to cum with me.” 

Namjoon slips his fingers out of you making you whine at your now empty cunt. But that ends when he licks his fingers and then places them over your parted lips. Your tongue mimics what he did before, however, you end up sucking your boyfriend’s fingers, tasting yourself in the process. 

You take off his boxer shorts and your entire body seems to be on fire when Namjoon’s cock springs free. His red tip begging for attention and he is hard, you don’t want him inside you, you need him inside you. 

Spreading your legs you welcome him to enter you. This hand taps your thigh for you to wrap your legs around him. The tip of his cock grazes your clit and you are done with the teasing. Taking the matter into your own hands, you reach Namjoon’s rock-hard cock and you guide it to your entrance. Both of you moan as he completely sinks into you. 

Deep and slow, his cock glides in but not entirely out of you, keeping your cunt full– so full of him. The feeling is so good, so pleasurable, it is hard for you to form a coherent sentence. Your full focus is grabbing Namjoon’s ass, pulling him as close to you as possible. You want to feel every single inch of him. How a veiny cock pulsates inside you, making you scream for it, scream for him. 

Your hands, desperate now, reach for Namjoon’s hair, pulling him into yet another kiss that goes from sweet to sloppy. His lips and tongue land on your jawline, chin, and back to your lips as your hips now raise to meet with his. The groans that were once stuck in his throat are now very audible as you both increase the speed at which you chase your climaxes. 

“You gonna cum with me, babe? You close?” he says in your ear, his voice incredibly low and hoarse. 

“Yesyesyes… make me cum,” you leave little kisses on his neck. 

As your climax approaches you shut your eyes, heightening the feeling of your boyfriend’s weight on top of you and the little moans he lets out as he fucks you. Namjoon’s hips thrust hard and as you open your eyes, tears fall. You cry as a string of curses leave your lips, you are cuming, harder than last night. Harder than yesterday and harder than the day before that. 

“Babe, fuck– ugh fuckfuck!” Namjoon cums with a muffled moan as he plants kisses to your temple and cheek. 

Namjoon looks at you, cock softening, his load buried in you. His lips curve in a smile, eyes again lovingly scanning your face, trying to read your expression. You can’t help but cover your eyes with your hands. You’ve decided to restrict yourself to only interacting with Namjoon these two weeks because he deserves the world. Your little JK thing had to stop. Nevertheless, you can’t shake the thought of the red lingerie set he sent you, which is now hidden in your side of the cupboard.

Guilt makes your skin crawl, but that goes away when after such a mind-blowing orgasm, Namjoon gives you a chaste kiss on the lips. You could stay here forever, but that was not the case. 

After a long hot shower together, it dawned on you that you couldn’t stay in this Namjoon bubble forever. Someday you had to face reality and that day was today. Namjoon is going away, on a business trip, and even though your love for him is real, you don’t trust yourself. 

“Do you really, really need to go? Can’t you have a video call or something?” you sit on the couch watching as he puts his luggage near the door. 

“I do need to go. Only three days ok, babe?” he gives you a smile. That beautiful smile warms your heart and makes you swoon. 

“Okay three days,” you reply. 

Namjoon walks to you and cups your face. He lets the image of you engrave on his brain for the days he is going to be away. He wishes he were more present, he really cherished these two weeks where it felt like the two of you just started dating, but he just had to leave. So he pulls you into a kiss, firmly pressing his lips to yours. 

As you wave goodbye, you feel that heaviness in your chest and you just know it is time to go back to bed. Trying to sleep it off might help, after all, and there is nothing urgent that needs to get done. 

Your bed is cold as you climb on it. Has it always been this cold? You make yourself comfortable, putting pillows around you in an attempt to feel less lonely. Blinds now closed, you let yourself sleep, trusting that three days will fly by. 

The subconscious never lies and it loves to play tricks on one’s mind, and you are no exception. Your dreams get steamier and you are not exactly aware of what’s going on. There are hands all over your body. One specifically makes its way to your mouth, getting two tattooed fingers in it making you moan as drool starts to fall down your chin. You feel the opposite side of your bed sink at the weight of your new companion. 

With your eyes still closed, your hand reaches the body that now lays beside you. 

“Jungkook?” your voice is sleepy and tired. 

“Jungkook!?” Camille answers perplexed. 

Your eyes rapidly open at the sound of your best friend’s voice. A rush of thoughts comes to your head, thinking about how to excuse yourself. 

“I– I just…” 

“It’s time to stop your personal house arrest. We are going out,” she pats your head and wink. 

“Ugh… honestly, Cam, you scared me,” you rub your eyes, trying to fully wake up. It’s been hours since Namjoon left. Where did time go?

“I miss you, I haven’t seen you in forever. I know you miss Joon and all, but we have a date, and people are expecting us,” Camille hops off the bed and starts going through your clothes which hang perfectly neatly on your side of the cupboard. 

You decide to get up, there is no fighting Camille. Besides, you could use the distraction. 

“Ooh but what do we have here? Oh My God, babes, you got it!” 

Your head spins so fast to find Camille with the delicate red lace underwear in her hands. Yes, Jungkook’s gift. 

“Ummm, yes,” you lie. “I got it,” you make your way to her and put them back in their hiding place. 

“Well, put some makeup on. We leave in 20!”.

________________________________________________________

For the entire cab ride you kept asking Camille what was she up to and she didn’t reveal much. You figured you would go to a bar and she would make you dance your worries away. The good thing is you were actually right, in a way. To your surprise, you were joining two lovely people at the bar. 

“So why did you put yourself on house arrest?” with a smirk drawn on his lips he sips his drink. 

“She said she just didn’t feel like going out,” Jimin answers Taehyung the same question for the nth time, earning an eye roll from him. 

“Okay, okay. But we were looking forward to seeing you! You know you are my favourite,” Taehyung winks at you playfully. 

“I thought I was your favourite,” Camille comes back to the table with drinks… 8 shots to be exact. How did she manage to carry these? It will always remain a mystery. 

“No, you’re my favourite,” Jimin adds laughing. 

Camille sweetly kisses his cheek and then proceeds to give each one of you two shots. 

“Don’t ask what’s in them, just drink. Cheers!” 

You watch as everyone takes their shots, grateful for this moment where you truly feel blissful. For the first time in days, you don’t feel anxious or guilty. Namjoon has great friends, despite his agitated life. It would be wrong if you ruined everything. You have no idea how you could forgive yourself if you did anything remotely close to breaking that man’s heart. These sober thoughts get mixed with the alcohol in your system as more drinks come to the table. 

“Let’s dance?” Taehyung extends his hand to you. 

You can feel the alcohol slightly teasing your brain now. The vibration of the music gives you goosebumps, and the lights are a tad bit brighter. Accepting Tehyung’s hand, you are guided by him to the dance floor where other groups of friends and couples are dancing. A couple catches your attention as they seductively make out right in front of you. The two men shamelessly grope their bodies together not minding the crowd around them. 

“You know them?” Taehyung’s voice is in your ear now. 

“No,” you resume your dancing. 

Taehyung keeps his careful eyes on you the entire time, making sure you don’t bump into anyone else. His hands are carefully on your waist as he spins you to the music. You look back at the couple who are not less handsy. The temperature seems to rise by the second when you feel a pair of eyes looking intently. Jimin’s eyes look at you from the table as he takes another shot with Camille. His expressionless face makes you turn to Taehyung. 

“Is he… jealous?” you ask. 

“He is always jealous, don’t worry,” he laughs. There is a spark in his eyes and now you understand why everyone is so obsessed with these two. 

From the distance, you see another girl approach Camille. Are they friends? She seems a bit too handsy. 

“Shall we head back?” you ask and Taehyung is already leading the way back to the table. 

“...yeah, sorry but I’m engaged,” Camille says a bit too loud showing off her ring. “You’re gorgeous by the way!”

The girl in the pixie haircut apologises and joins a group of people on the dance floor. It seems she does know the hot steamy couple you saw earlier. 

“You are getting married and still have people flirt with you,” Jimin says with his eyes glued on Taehyung who pretends to not notice such an intense glare. 

“What can I say… I still have it, but I am joining your chosen family forever,” Camille pokes Jimin on the shoulder. 

The tension could be cut with a knife now as silence falls over the table. Jimin now looks down, thinking if he should let his intrusive thoughts win, and of course, they do. 

“If you had to choose anyone but Yoongi, who would you choose?” he finally says. 

You cough in response, not expecting this question at all. 

“Hmmmm… between the seven of you?” Camille asks. 

“Yes,” Taehyung answers as he leans towards her, getting interested in the new turn the night has taken. 

“Well… probably Seokjin–” 

“Jin!?” you exclaim. 

“Yeah, he is really fun,” 

“He is like the complete opposite of Yoongi,” Jimin laughs. 

“Well, who would you choose?” Camille asks. 

Jimin shakes his head. 

“Taehyung should go first. Who?” and there is something in Jimin’s voice that makes you even more intrigued by what Taehyung has to say. 

“I’d choose her,” Taehyung puts an arm around you. 

Jimin rolls his eyes but smiles at you. 

“...from the seven.”

“Maybe Namjoon.” 

Your mouth falls open as you turn to Taehyun. 

“Really? Namjoon?” you ask quite surprised, to be honest. But Taehyung only gives you a sweet smile. 

“Your turn!” Camille says, but you shake your head, which makes everything suddenly spin. The alcohol has caught up with your night. 

“C’mon, beautiful. We’ll say it at the same time. Deal?” Jimin encouraged you and although you know they mean no harm, you know this is dangerous territory. 

“One… Two… Three…” 

“Jungkook,” you blurt out at the same time. Your voice overlaps Jimin’s making him laugh uproarously. 

“Huh! Who would have thought?” Camille looks at you impressed. “The tattoos?” 

You just cover your face in embarrassment and everyone knows at this point it is time to go home. 

__________________________________________________________

The next day came with plenty of things to do around the house and you worked from home. Camille had sent a list of things to help out as part of your Maid of Honour duties, you were more than happy to do these because one, this is your best friend's wedding and you want it to be just as she wants it. Two, it will keep your head from overthinking. 

You’ve Facetimeed Namjoon twice already, making sure he confirmed he was coming home tomorrow. It is not the healthiest thing to be so dependent on him, you already know that. But the fact that he is away is almost making you physically ill. 

Your phone rings and you’re sure it’s him. As you reach out to answer: 

Incoming Call: JK

You have to be fucking kidding me. 

You put the phone down and walk to the kitchen to get water. He can’t be calling you right now. What the hell does he want? 

The ringing of your doorbell startles you as it echoes around the house. You don’t need to ask or check who it is, you already know. As you open the door he turns around to meet you. His hair was long enough to be put in a ponytail. He shows you a big smile which is erased as soon as you don’t return it. 

“Hi,” his voice is small, almost completely muted but the motor of his car that is parked outside.

“You shouldn’t be here, Jungkook–” You reach to close the door but he stops you. 

“Please, I just want to talk. I need to show you something,” his eyes pleading. You try to avoid looking into them, you know you would say yes if you did. 

“I don’t know… it’s very very late and it looks like it might rain.” 

“It will take 10 minutes I promise…” 

_______________________________________________

A 6-ish minute car ride later, you find yourself at the top of a little hill in your neighbourhood. You had no idea it had such an interesting view of the city lights. It even had two wooden benches for people to sit down and admire the view. You could easily drive by and not pay much attention to it, but the way the trees aligned in this specific part of the hill, created a natural arch that blocked some of the street lights. This made the spot perfect for stargazing as well.

“Why are we here?” 

Jungkook is the first to sit on the bench, but you don’t follow—the greater the distance the better. 

“I wanted to show you my favourite place on this side of the city. I used to come here often to think or when I couldn’t sleep… I– also owe you an apology.” 

He stayed silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts, and trying to find the right words to say. 

“I am sorry for–” but Jungkook stops himself and for the first time in the night you look at him in the eye. 

“Actually… I am not sorry. Like I am, but I am not. Not really. I have always loved and respected my friends, but when I want something– someone… I fight for it.” 

“Jungkook?” you take a step back as his fingers brush yours. Jungkook stands up to have a better look at you. 

Little droplets of water start to fall from the sky. They land on your head, your shoulders, and suddenly everywhere. Probably a heavenly warning that you should run far away from this man, but your feet seem to be glued to the ground as his fingers now intertwine with yours. With his eyes staring into yours he raises your hand to his lips as he starts planting kisses on the back of your hand. 

“Jungkook… no–” you whisper. But even though these are the words that leave your mouth, your body doesn’t obey. 

Your free hand caress his cheek, an invitation for him to come closer. Rain pours now, cold, hard, the raindrops almost hurting you, but neither of you seems to care. So you firmly plant a kiss on his lips. You hear him moan as his lips part to kiss you as he has wanted to kiss you since he first saw you stuck on those revolving doors. 

His hands on your back pull you closer to him, he wants to cover you with his body. You finally parted your lips for him. You don’t think. Everything happens so fast, your heartbeat quickens as you get to taste him, to feel almost consumed by him. Jungkook prays his will is strong enough to wait until you ask him to fuck you. But now his hand is on your neck, giving him better access to deepen the kiss. 

The heavy rain muffles the little cry that escapes you, but sinning never felt so good, it shouldn’t feel so good. Tiny sparks of electricity course through your veins and it seems you’ve never felt this alive before. The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless, speechless. Until– 

“Do that again,” you say.

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

a/n: This is pure ✨fiction✨- this took me a while but I truly had a blast writing it. lmk if you want to be in the taglist.

taglist: @paramedicnerd004 | @darkuni63 | @bangtans-momma | @diorh0seokie

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 12 (End!)

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Ao3

[Warning for brief references to sex; nothing explicit happens]

-

For the first time in a long time, Steve wakes slowly.

His alarm isn’t blaring at him and neither is his brain; it’s quiet, and the room is filled with morning sun, and Steve is warm, and comfortable, and still a little muzzy with the heavy sort of sleep that usually only comes to him when he’s physically exhausted or feeling safe (usually the former).

He blinks at the blurry mess of color that is his wallpaper and tries to remember what day it is, tries to will himself to get up, because he’s sure there’s something he’s supposed to be doing, but it’s hard. He’s so comfortable. He turns his face further into his pillow, pressing in where it’s warm and firm and– breathing.

Steve sits up.

Beside him, Eddie is still asleep, lying sprawled across the mattress with one arm flung half over the side and the other stretched out where it had been curled around Steve’s back before Steve pulled away. There’s a red mark on his chest where Steve’s head had been resting, and he’s sure there’s a corresponding splotch of red on his cheek.

As the sleepy fog finally lifts from his brain, the previous night filters back in, and Steve can’t help the smile that follows. He shifts a little just to feel the pleasurable ache in his muscles, to feel the warmth of the cocoon of sheets around them, to feel the way the mattress dips beneath the weight of a second body, and sighs contentedly.

He’s just considering lying back down when Eddie groans, a drowsy frown pulling at his face.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, eyes still closed (at least, Steve’s sure that’s what he means to ask; it comes out a little more like “Whrd y’go?”, and he’s pleased that his ability to decipher Eddie’s half-awake mumbling hasn’t suffered in its absence of use).

“I didn’t go anywhere, I’m right here,” Steve says, laying his palm over Eddie’s chest and running his thumb along the ridge of his collarbone.

Eddie hums, bringing his hand up from over the edge of the bed to place it over Steve’s. “‘s too early to be awake,” he mutters, a little more coherent this time. “Come back.”

“It’s not even that early. It’s…” Steve ducks and squints a little to bring his alarm clock into focus, everything still a little blurry without his contact lenses in. “Holy shit, it’s past ten.”

“See? Early.” Eddie reaches up with his free hand to pat around for a hold on Steve’s arm so he can tug at him. “Lay back down.”

“I never sleep this late, what the hell,” Steve mutters, and Eddie finally opens his eyes, giving Steve a grin that’s equal parts sleepy and self-satisfied.

“Wore you out, didn’t I?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah, I’m exhausted,” Steve deadpans, before proceeding to flop back down onto Eddie’s chest, smirking at the little ‘oof’ he earns. “I don’t know if I can even move. Hope you don’t have to pee anytime soon.”

Eddie shrugs. “Eh, if I do, it’s your bed, not mine.”

“Ew. Dude.” Steve props himself back up on his elbow in order to wrinkle his nose at Eddie.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Eddie says with a smirk, and – shit, Steve’s really missed this.

Eddie is one of the only people in the world Steve feels like he can completely be himself around. He’s second only to Robin (everyone will always be second to Robin, that’s just a given), and that’s what had devastated Steve most when he’d heard what Eddie had to say about their relationship. He thought he’d let Eddie see all of him, and Eddie hadn’t seen anything worth wanting.

Worth loving.

But that, apparently, hadn’t quite been the case.

“Hey,” Eddie calls Steve’s attention back, picking his hand up off his chest to press a kiss to the back of it. “Where’d you go?”

No, that hadn’t been the case at all.

Steve shakes his head. “Nowhere,” he promises. “I’m right here.”

He leans down for a kiss, and Eddie pulls their combined hands aside to meet it, bringing his free hand up to curl into Steve’s hair, cradling the back of his head.

It isn’t as though all the hurt has healed – all of Steve’s doubts and insecurities haven’t magically disappeared. As much as Steve might wish, it isn’t as though the last several weeks never happened. They can’t change any of that now, but Eddie’s honesty, his openness– openness from them both will take them a long way forward.

The idea still sits as a bit new to Steve: honesty. He’s used to people saying one thing and doing another. He’s used to being expected to decipher convoluted social cues and having to intuit unspoken messages. He’s used to not being allowed to ask for what he wants and just accepting whatever he’s given.

This, he thinks, will be better.

The kiss doesn’t end so much as it slides into another, and another, until Eddie and Steve have rolled to their sides, legs tangled together beneath the blankets, mouths sliding against one another, lazy and unhurried. There’s a hint of heat beneath their movements, something that could spark into more if they let it, but Steve is content with just this for now. There will always be time for more later.

Eddie hums deep in his chest when the kisses trail to an end, voice still warm and sleep-rough, and Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s, unwilling to go too far away just yet.

“Good morning,” Steve says when Eddie opens his eyes again, and he can feel the puff of Eddie’s sigh against his lips.

“Don’t say that,” Eddie whines. “If you say that, we have to get up.”

Steve gives a little laugh. “We can’t stay in bed all day, Eddie.”

“Sure we can,” Eddie drawls, pushing at Steve’s shoulder until he takes the hint and rolls onto his back, only to have Eddie lay down on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. “In fact, I think that’s a great idea.”

“Do you seriously have no other plans for the day?” Steve asks, as if he has any pressing engagements himself.

Eddie presses a kiss to the base of Steve’s throat, humming thoughtfully. “Maybe one or two,” he says, trailing a few more kisses up the side of Steve’s neck.

“Besides that,” Steve huffs, though he makes no move to stop Eddie when his hand comes to rest on the waist of Steve’s pajama pants.

“What am I, an event planner?” Eddie asks, but he does pull away from Steve’s neck with a petulant (and largely exaggerated) sigh. “Fine. How about we stay in bed most of the day and then… we can go back to mine for dinner?”

Steve looks up at Eddie, brows drawing together as he thinks. “What’s at yours that we’d need for dinner?”

Eddie shrugs. “Nothing, really. It’s just been a while,” he says quietly.

And– well, it has. Eddie’s trailer used to be one of the places Steve had felt most comfortable, but he hasn’t spent more than a few minutes there in passing since he’d emptied it of his things. He misses it there – how warm and welcoming it always was, how he’d felt like he belonged there.

What if he goes back now and it’s changed? What if he feels as out of place there now as he does in his own house?

He must spend a moment too long thinking about it, because Eddie begins to backpedal.

“But if you don’t want to, we totally don’t have to, we can just–”

“No,” Steve cuts in. “Let’s go to yours for dinner.”

A slow-growing smile pulls across Eddie’s face, and Steve can tell he’s fighting the urge to duck and hide it.

“Wayne misses you, y’know,” Eddie says, and now it’s Steve who’s ducking away from eye contact.

“Misses my cooking, I bet,” he jokes, but Eddie shakes his head.

“Misses you. He does like you, Steve. He asked where you were, after– after everything,” Eddie says, and Steve isn’t sure what the hell he’s supposed to say to that, or if he even can speak around the sudden, weird choke of emotion in his throat. Eddie, as if he can sense his dilemma, saves Steve from having to respond. “He misses your cooking too, though, let’s be real. He had the audacity to tell me the other day that my mac and cheese isn’t as good as yours. It was your recipe!”

Steve laughs, and Eddie really plays up the offense.

“And you know the worst part? He was right,” Eddie laments. “It’s the same recipe, how does that even work?”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you want me to come to your house and cook you dinner,” Steve teases, smirking up at Eddie.

Eddie subsides just a little, packing away his theatrical energy in order to smile back down at Steve. “I just want you to come over. I’ll order dinner if you want. Hell, I’ll submit myself to public ridicule and try cooking for you again.” He cups Steve’s cheek in one hand and leans in to kiss him gently. “Whatever you want, Steve, I’m there.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, quiet, almost breathless with the depth of Eddie’s promise.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, his smile as ridiculous and smitten as the look on Steve’s own face must be. “I’m right here with you.”

And Steve decides he likes the sound of that. He likes it very much.

-

Thank you to everyone who gently threatened me encouraged me to continue the first part of this story, it's been so fun to write and to see everyone interact with! You've all been very kind, and I hope the ending satisfies <3

Tag list: @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

[ghouljams]

same hozier anon from earlier!

i was rereading your viking au and couldn't stop thinking about soap and butchered tongue!? specifically:

so far from home have a stranger call you "darling" and have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand

of course, hozier is specifically discussing the treatment of indigenous peoples and the wexford rebellion of 1978. but it got me thinking, what was soap's transition into viking life like? what is it like to speak a different language with reader when it's something shared just between them? the first time reader calls soap a term of endearment in his own mother tongue?

imo, andrew made unreal unearth with the intent of forcing us through every circle of hell and then just keeping through it all on a loop. and i thank him for it (what does that say about me).

Viking!Soap and Butchered Tongue is such a winning combination. I absolutely adore that song, it makes me tear up each time I listen to it. We'll get to Soap's backstory, his trauma, in the official story line, but for now yeah I can talk about his transition to viking life.

Strange men speaking in strange tongues, their clothing so different from his own, but their rough hands are the same, the sadness in their eyes is the same. It's human, it's familiar in a way that stings more than the cuts along Soap's face. They don't understand him when he speaks, looking between themselves, talking in quiet tones. The language they speak is rough, like hearing his own sounds jumbled back to him, but Soap's always been quick. Certain words repeat themselves, certain sounds repeated between men questioningly. He can make assumptions.

He tugs the cloak one of them men gave him tighter around his shoulders. He doesn't want to seem weak in front of them, not when they're so clearly attempting to decide what to do with him. A different man pushes the conversation apart with his mere presence, leveling Soap with an icy stare. When he opens his mouth the words that come out are rough and mispronounced, but familiar.

"You want work?"

Soap nods quickly. Work, sure. He's strong, he's smart, he'd do anything to get away from the smell of death that carried him here, he can work. Even if it's hard, even if he hates it, he can work. Anything to get off this godforsaken rock.

What he thought would take months takes mere weeks. Weeks of living with the men that call themselves vikings to pick up enough of their language to converse. "Soap" they call him.

"Because ya needed a bath," Ghost grumbles over dinner one night. Soap laughs, not because it's particularly funny, but because he understands him. It's rueful, almost despairing. He understands him. No one will ever hear the words of the Mactavishes again.

Working helps him adjust. There are things to do to keep his mind off of everything, he learns the words for ship parts before he learns colors. He knows how to count money before he learns how to introduce himself. He knows Price before he learns the word for Captain, learns not to apologize for that. He watches the sun fall, watches it rise again. He teaches Gaz a few words, stops when it makes the ache in his chest grow too big and unavoidable. They get back to his new home and he's given a share of the profits, more money than he's seen in his life. He's given a bed in the long house, warm food, new clothes, he's given a sturdy iron band to wear around his arm, if he wants.

He learns the language, the culture. He adjusts. He translates the next time they're across the sea, trading with people he no longer feels familiar to. A viking wearing his tartan over his shoulders, speaking a familiar tongue, he feels like a stranger in his homeland. He leans against Ghost by the fire, toys with the iron band around his wrist. Strangers to every land but the one that took them in.

He misses his ma.

He doesn't mention it.

He meets you like a ghost of his past. He watches your village burn and sees his own in the smoke. He hauls you off kicking and screaming, in a familiar, painful, tongue. You sound like his memories of home. You sound like the place he's never been able to forget. You mean everything to him, and you hate him.

You won't speak to him, not the way he wants you to, and it's like losing his home all over again.

[the-moon-files]

Linked Universe / GN!Reader - Random Headcanons abt the Chain! :)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (ur here!)

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them), Guide Reader!

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Scenarios?

Stars: Wind, Wild, Sage, C*urage, K*ridai

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: i included the link from K*oridai (faces of evil), and the brunette Link from that old cartoon tv show,

& Trigger Warnings: none known.

☆

Wind (Wind Waker):

Misses being a big brother

LMAOOO I CAME FOR UR THROAT HAHAAA

ok chill chill he's doing okay

He's just not used to being the youngest in any given group, he used to be the oldest kid in charge of the younger ones and his little sister too

But dont get him wrong! He rlly does love the advantages that come with it,

and when he's feeling down abt not being older u usually cheer him up by reminding him he can be the biggest little shit he wants and every single Link will forgive him once he pulls out his baby seal eyes lmao

Ur the easiest to rope into horse playing/goofing off and he's very happy abt that

The others can be too serious for too long so he appreciates how u and him lighten them up by trying to give each other noogies (he loses most of the time)

As soon as Wind found out the others could play instruments, he immediately demanded they do campfire songs every night lol

(Most of the time one person caves, even just to idly play smth)

Likes inventing weird new games to play that'll convince as many other people to particpate, he used to do it back home too, like finding the prettiest rock on the island, that way his grandma and even adults could play too :)

Needs to sleep beside someone at night, bc he secretly likes it, back on his adventure going to sleep all by himself (unlike living with his grandma/sister) always was a little hard for him

Very hard to wake up in the morning, sleeps in the latest out of all the Links

("I'm a growing boy? Ofc i need my sleep, whats ur excuse??" @ the other Links who sleep in late lol)

Likes to sew! He's still learning, but his grandma used to teach him how so he could help her keep up with his growth spurts/recklessness tearing his clothes up

Idolizes u forever if you embroider, and will watch u like those videos of someone's cat who's fascinated by watching owner craft smth lol (like this ⚫️v⚫️)

Enjoys making stoic people crack their persona and laugh

Also has the wheeziest laugh youve ever heard, it makes u laugh every time, even when he started laughing over a dumb pun

Oh yeah, makes a foul amount of dad jokes for someone whos only like 14 💀

(He once managed to break Time and Legend, which then broke Wars and Twi, and it just continued down the Chain until everyone was crying or on the ground, he wears that shit like a badge and it literally made his confidence go 📈 puffed his chest out and everything lol)

Wild (Breath of the Wild):

U already know everything there is to know abt him??

I dont even have to say it, and it shows when ur around him lol

Like he'll go to do smth stupid like shield surf down death mountain in a unknown Hyrule, and before anyone can even realize thats what he's planning to do you've caught and stopped him and made a compromise to shield surf down some snow bluffs later instead

Or when u know he's gotten new ingredients in some other Link's Hyrule and is going to try and cook with them tonight, so u help him make a regular meal of smth else along with so the boys dont suffer stomaches

Like u can absolutely predict his bullshit all the time, just imagine the most adrenaline junkie thing he could do in that moment with the combination of things around him and you always know what tf he's up to, ur always right lol

Ur the only one who can get him to stop the chaos (besides maybe Time, weirdly enough Sky/Hyrule/Four bc they are the least likely to tell him to stop, so when they do, its usually a very, very bad idea)

Likes hair ornaments, he's got long hair for a reason after all

Likes u to style his hair, and esp if u teach him how to braid or do diff styles <333

He loves that u help cook/at least prep, and u make sure another Link helps too, bc thats a lot of ppl to make food for with little to no help 💀

(Makes u ur fav foods at even the slightest mention of them, like u wont even have to say ur craving Link's already whipped the pan out best housewife fr)

One of the few Links who's adventurous with his clothing, and trying new stuff

Wild was worried abt his Champion tunic getting messed up but was sad he couldn't wear it as much anymore

So u handmade him a new shirt that imitates the old one but with some new designs to represent the Chain! :)

He started crying.

He either hugs so lightly he seems like he's not enjoying it (no true, he's just trying to be polite)

Or he squeezes so hard be pops ur back and nearly breaks a rib

U got the latter for that shirt lol

Any new thing he doesnt remember how to deal with, like how to sew (he knows 1 stitch help), how to wash clothes (dont mix whites and blacks, and colors), how to soothe headaches/muscle aches etc.

He just wanders pitifully over to ur side and looks pitiful lol

Like he's a confused and saddened puppy

And just holds up whatever mess he's made like, "im so sorry, i dont know how to do this pls"

Bc he trusts u to know (the other Links may be hit or miss too tbh lmao)

And ur the least likely to clown him for it too, at least nothing he doesnt also find funny

Sage (Tears of the Kingdom):

So sue me, i enjoy this stupid-definitely-not-canon-unhinged-Link thats done with everyones bullshit and wants to be a hermit

SUEEE MEE ABT ITTTTT✨️

The first time u saw his hair nest and immediately clapped ur hand over u mouth in shock and tried to take a brush to it on sight

He fucking hissed at you.

Feral bitch.

Sage isnt like that all the time, but he was certainly the most distrustful and prickly out of all the Links

(U could smell it was like a defense mechanism from his adventure/past from a mile away, and knew with time that it'd fade away into his true self... like how u just knew Wild that well too)

U are the only person allowed to casually touch him, he shys away from the other Links, let alone strangers,and the first he allowed to help him with his hair

Tbh after u washed it out and got tangles and mats out and cut split ends off etc.

He almost teared up, and was extremely confused why

Def the type to not have realized he felt insecure lowkey abt it until it was fixed (he also was embarrassed to say he didnt rlly know how to take care of it)

Energy of a stray feral cat that leaves dead birds on ur doorstep without fail every morning and u leave a food bowl out in hopes he'll actually be your cat 💀

Extremely protective of you, and eventually the Chain, to the point where he might set someone's hair on fire or use runes on them

Like not enough to seriously injure but enough to scare tf out of ppl and have them running for their lives

(Did he literally growl at someone when they tried to flirt with you?? ... why is Twi encouraging him.)

Was unnerved by Wild at first but slowly got used to him and often butts into whatever private convo u two are having

Like just casually struts up and plops his head on ur shoulder and waits for attention, may complain loudly depending on how grumpy he is that day

(Wild's not getting jealous and constantly hogging u for cooking to get even more time with you what-)

Okay but unfortunately

Once those 2 got comfy with each other, they started tag teaming everyone

Like u can now bet that if an explosion happens in the distance, Sage definitely caused it, and if he's there, then Wild's there making him the explosives

(Same for if Wild's there, then Sage's there)

Def the Link that likes showing the most skin, he "gets overheated easily" - local half naked man justifies his nakedness

(coughtotallynototherreasonslikebeingshirtlessaroundyouallthetimecough)

Absolutely grievous clowning on the other Links, like its getting into bullyinggg 😭

His words are E rated for Everyone, no ones safe not even you

Sage: "wait, all those rings and nobody's ever put one on you? And you've never put on one someone else??🤔🤔"

Legend: ...😦

The rest of the Chain: 💀😭😶

Time, trying to hide he's choking on laughter so hard he's abt to fall into the firepit

Will occasionally team up with Wild to make a protective little border on either side of you while in towns/new Hyrules

U once offered to sing/hum for him after a nightmare while it was ur turn on watch (he sleeps up trees btw) and after u switched off w/other Link, u both went to edge of camp to sleep next to each other and he had the best sleep of his life like that

Now demands begs u to sing him to sleep every night, wont take "i dont sound that good tho" for an answer

Courage (The Legend of Zelda, 1989 Cartoon TV show):

Yeah... he's here too.

Just dont read this tbh

Enjoys being ✨️special✨️ by being the only hero twink out here with brunette hair

Was insecure abt it being curly/wavy until u slowly built his confidence

Bc he's got the most confidence in his strength, but not in much else tbh 😭

Actually will randomly have moments of responsibility or capability you didnt expect out of him bc he can be so silly and jokey all the time

Youll be lost as hell and he just "hey its ok the stars look like this so we go this way" and it works

Like the type of person u sort of avoid relying on bc he's like a playful jock type and then they randomly show theyre the captain of the team for a reason

Dont ask why, but hes good at knitting, shhhh no, no, no explanation he just secretly is he wont even tell u why or how or when he learned this he just "hehe, wouldnt u like to know princeyyy/princesssss/your majestyyyy"

Hyrule, and rest of Chain standing by, went to talk to one of the Great Fairies in a Hyrule once to try and get some info abt where to camp tonight or where nearest town was and before he could get close enough to ask,

Courage was already yelling like "YOOOO BIGGEST FAIRY WHATS UP?! u mind giving some poor lost fellas like us somewhere to go with ourselves tonight??"

They kept talking super casually and she laughed so hard that she let u guys stay near her that night to camp and be under fairy protection like no fairy boy Link needed 💀

Everyone was shocked, and thats how u all found out Courage is rlly good with fairies/their best friend no matter the Hyrule

Every time u guys learn smth new abt him it feels so unexpected, like out of left field or smth

It just never seems to fit his usual persona, or at least not what youd expect from him

So needless to say the first time u guys learned he could talk to magical objects that were powerful enough (like the fucking triforce)-

(this was apparently so normal he literally lived with a piece of it just in his room all the time????)

Has weird mixture of country boy vs. royal prince sensibilities?

It alarmed several Links. 💀

He can talk to Fi.

(Sky and you nearly cried)

Like he lived in the castle alongside Zelda so he inherited some spoiled/etiquette stuff, but he still would absolutely go splash in mud puddles in the rain

Would literally do fucking anything if it meant youd give him a kiss on the cheek

Likes to hug you a lot too, with his huge ass arms lifting u up (no he does not care how much u weigh ur going UP) and spinning u around

Its his favorite, almost as much as kisses

No but he's slay fucking Majora to get a kiss, like it's actually unbelievable and kinda endearing how excited he gets if u promise him one lmao

Koridai (Link: The Faces of Evil):

Omg not them putting Link's name in the title of the gameee i didnt know that 😭😭

Geezzz,, i dont know what im on

But ig heres that other silly ass Link if anyone feels like reading it

Will also fight any god, including Hylia, for a kiss

Actually astoundingly good at strategizing

Like after a few times in heat of battle him organizing Links, Time and Wars practically jumped him to include him in planning shit

He was similar to Courage to in that he just was cracking jokes all the time u didnt expect it, also he's significantly more sarcastic than Courage

U introduced him to dark humor and the laugh he laughed practically burst out of him, he looked shocked by his own laugh lmao

So he also now has a streak of dark humor he shows when u talk for while/sees someone also enjoys it

Its like his not-so-guilty-pleasure

Really good at baking? He apparently learned a lot of miscellaneous skills to better court someone and he now uses them fully to seduce you,

thru gift giving mostly, its is love language besides acts of service :)

(All Links do some amount of acts of service tho <3)

Rlly good at styling hair surprisingly, and at shield surfing??? What

Actually down to try Wild's experimental dishes...

And by that i mean he pranks the rest of you by sneaking the inedible bits into ur food

U may or may not have nearly choked him out for it and now he doesnt do it to you, and even was trying to act all pitiful abt it like "sorry lovely, but i just wanted to tease u bc ur so cute!! 🥺👉👈"

Like,, stfu u little shit 💀

He has the energy of a male orange cat, dont ask why he just is, and specifically the orange cat getting on top of the fridge or stuck between the the screen door and glasss door comically or smth 😭

Hes also loud as hell

One of the worst at stealth unless he just keeps his mouth shut completely, like his whispering is loud

He proclaims his affections very loudly too, like gettin u flowers and chatting ur ear off with what he likes abt u lol

No, like he can go for 20 minutes or more if u let him, u better stop him before he gets into the personality based compliments

Bc those sound wayyy too personal to be aired out in public ngl, like its so soft and domestic itll kill u lol

And he means every word too 👀

☆

I HATE THIS NEW FEATURE OR FUNCTION I SWEAR THIS DIDNT HAPPEN BEFOREEE!!!

😭😭 U ABSOLUTELY KNOW WHAT IT IS BY NOW, IT FUCKING POSTED MY DRAFT BEFORE IT WAS READY TO GO

God fuck this hellsite stop doing this meee

Thats it im just do what i do for the other blog and write it smwhere else and then copy paste onto the post this is ridiculoussss 😒😒

Well anyway, i hope if u read this before i updated and actually FINISHED THIS u come back and read it again!! :(

Sorry guys, but blame tumblr pls before u blame me 😔

(Yeah theres a lot of emojis leave me alone i feel strongly abt this)

Peace out,

🐤 Peep

I think ill start signing off my name ig, unless u guys wanna call me Moon that works too

[jesterwriting]

characters: vampire!shanks x gn!human!reader x vampire!mihawk

contents: flirting, reader is old enough to have wrinkles, seemingly unrequited love, communication issues, an entire decade of pining, shanks sleeps around a lot, also spreading my bisexual shanks agenda, reader is oblivious and i mean oblivious, jealous shanks, meddling mihawk, you could make the case that shanks is an a jerk and id agree, its not on purpose hes just an idiot

word count: 3.4k words

note: happy late halloween!! i meant to finish this yesterday, but i was so exhausted after my trip to the amusement park, i needed a day to recover. plus, this was a lot to write. im excited it's finally done though, ive been sitting on this for a while now :33 i hope all who read enjoy this. theres some things left unsaid by the end of this, i do wanna do a part two though hehe

playlist: lust for a vampyr - i monster

When the sun rose, it was time for the humans of Red-Haired Shanks’ crew to work.

It was a simple arrangement, one that was built on necessity rather than any need for control. As the majority of the ship were unable to step into the sun, Captain Shanks included, human familiars were needed to keep things running in tip-top shape during the day. The idea was: if you work for Shanks for a few years, or prove your worth, in time, you would be turned. Eternal life was quite the sell, especially if it meant centuries of adventure under the Red-Haired Pirate’s jolly roger. It drew countless humans to a life of piracy.

That wasn’t what enticed you, though.

You were happy as a human. The idea of drinking blood and never feeling the warmth of the sun did not appeal to you. What drew you in was the natural charisma of your captain. His voice, his presence, his charm, you fell victim to it all. After one night at a bar together, you knew you would follow him to the ends of the earth, all he needed to do was ask.

And ask, he did.

You knew enough about vampires to know it was easy to fall under their spell. Equipped with an uncanny knack for mind control and manipulation, all it took was a glimmer in their eyes before you were putty in their hand. You had seen it happen before. A single word to a marine back in the East Blue had them leaving in a daze. You recognized that this power could explain your willingness to leave everything behind.

The truth was you trusted Shanks. You never regretted your choice, not for a second. Besides, what use was a captain you second-guessed?

A part of you believed that you were made for him, crafted from the same clay that he was. A bigger part of you wondered how you could ever fall in love with such an idiot. Maybe it was the thrill of wanting someone you could never have, or maybe the attention he gave you left you pliant. Either way, you knew where you belonged. You’d been in his crew for a decade now, following him from the East Blue to the New World, and you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.

Not even as you dragged Shanks’ intoxicated ass in from the deck and to his room before the sun rose.

He was more muscle than man, way too heavy for you to carry so you settled on linking your arms under his armpits and dragging him as fast as you could. Shanks groaned, his stomach surely churning under the weight of the grog and blood he’d consumed throughout the night. You had always found the combination to sound unappetizing, you wondered how Shanks could stand it every night. Then again, he did have a more “refined” palate.

The first pale rays of the sun crested the horizon right as you shut the door to the captain’s quarters. Now all you had to do was dump him in his bed and you’d be free from him for the rest of the day. Your heart panged at the thought. Gently so as not to wake up, you brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

Shanks’ lips twitched, eyes squeezing enough for you to yank your hand back as if he burned you.

“You’re awake.” You tried to keep the indignation from your voice to no avail.

He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “If I say no, will you still help me to bed?”

With a scowl, you dropped him in a heap on the floor, ignoring how his laughter caused a hoard of butterflies to erupt in your chest. Embarrassment at being caught warred with the natural affection you held for your captain. It left you dizzy.

The room was pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted, it was hard to see anything that wasn’t in front of your face. You listened to your captain shuffle to his feet, still unsteady from his earlier drink. Sighing, you offered him your arm. His grip on you was firm, but not rough as he hauled himself upward, still chuckling under his breath. It was easy to forget how he could break your bones with a squeeze of his fist. Shanks could rip you apart like tissue paper if he wanted.

His hand was freezing, even through your shirt. In the dim light, you could barely see the glint of Shanks’ fangs as they poked from between his lips. You couldn’t help but shiver. If Shanks noticed it, he didn’t say anything leaning against your side as you led him to the mattress.

“You’re lucky I like you, captain.”

Shanks ignored you with a hum and buried his nose against your neck. It felt like there was an ice placed directly against your sensitive skin. You swallowed thickly as he took in a deep inhale, his hand curled in your hair, pulling you closer.

“Let me turn you. It’s been too long.”

You rolled your eyes and patted his stubble ridden chin. Shanks leaned into your touch ever so slightly. This was your least favorite conversation, one only brought up when he was drunk these days.

Two years after you joined, Shanks had been incessant. You’d proven yourself time and time again, it was time for you to be given the “gift.” The first time you turned him down, his jaw dropped and you wondered if anyone had ever denied him before. Shanks must have assumed you were shy, offering to drink from your wrist instead of your neck. As time passed, his requests tapered off. Sometimes, though, he would trace your wrinkles, something akin to sadness in his eyes. You tried not to think too hard about those moments; the one’s where you could delude yourself into thinking you were more than a friend.

Tonight was the first night in a long time that Shanks hadn’t taken someone to bed with him. While you didn’t judge him for being promiscuous, it reminded you of where you stood. He could have you anytime he wanted, all he had to do was chase you. You supposed you simply weren’t worth the chase.

“If you want to feed off me, I’ll donate some blood later. For now, bed,” You said, covering up your grown captain with a blanket like he was a child.

“You’re getting old,” Shanks slurred.

You shrugged. “It happens to the best of us.”

After a final pat on his cheek, your captain passed out, drool spilling from his lips. It was easier to ignore his offers when he slept. The more you aged, the more your body ached.

An eternity of pining after a man who would never love you sounded like torture.

—

Once night fell, the ship came to life.

Lights lit up the night, and the smell of booze filled the air as music played. You didn’t know if it was the vampirism or the piracy, but Shanks’ nighttime crew was a rowdy bunch, always yelling, always drinking, always singing, always <i>something<i>. Sure, the human crew were boisterous in their own way, however, they were completely outshone once the moon rose and stars blanketed the velvet sky.

With a yawn, you stretched your aching arms over your head, and waited for the inevitable.

A familiar pair of footsteps approached “Are you headed for bed soon?”

You turned to see your captain staring down at you with a smile, mug filled to the brim with blood. When you patted the spot next to you, Shanks sat down, legs crossed. The red liquid sloshed in his cup, some dribbling down the side. It smelled fresh, likely from today’s drive.

“Is that mine?”

He smirked and took a sip, rolling it around in his mouth as if it was a fancy brew. “What can I say? You’re the most delicious human on the ship.” Shanks’ eyes glimmered before he prodded you on the side. You shrank back with a giggle. “I could just eat you up.”

“Then who would drag you inside when the sun’s coming up.”

Shanks’ eyes softened slightly, his eyes reflecting the moon's rays enough to make them glow. “That is true. Where would I be without you?”

“A pile of ash in the middle of the deck,” You laughed.

“Then where would you be without your beloved captain?”

Knocking your shoulder against Shanks’, you stood with your hands on your hips, “Don’t get too big for your britches. When did I ever say you were beloved?”

Before Shanks could respond, the call for land rang out. You squinted your eyes to see the bundle of lights approaching on the horizon. If you could see it from here, it was sure to be a good sized town, hopefully primed to be overrun by the undead for the night. Or two. Or several. It all depended on how much supplies were needed.

Despite the promise of excitement, your heart sank. You knew what a new island meant. Shanks would party it up in a pub, flirt with people who weren’t you, and inevitably, bring someone to bed. It was a tale as old as time. You would nurse your heartbreak at the bar while your captain drank his worries away, in blood or beer, it depended on if there were any consenting humans around.

Shanks tugged on your arm in an attempt to get you to sit back down, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come drink with me once we land. You always go off by yourself, you don’t have to be so lonely.”

Sit with Shanks so he can see your heart break in real time? You’d rather eat glass. With a laugh, you shook yourself free, though you sat back down next to him, taking care to leave some space between the two of you.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I like my alone time,” You replied.

He chuckled, “And I think you’re lying.”

“What do you know about me, captain?”

Shanks turned to meet your gaze, head tilted to the side and an eyebrow raised. “More than you think.”

It was the cold night air that made you shiver. Nothing more.

“Whatever, you say.” You averted your eyes, unable to stand his stupid grin for much longer. Sharp canines poked from between his lips and you wondered how it would feel to have the graze against your skin. Your face felt hot.

As the ship approached the island, you soaked up Shanks’ presence like a sponge. He was physically cold, but his jokes made you laugh and his smile made you warm. You would only have his attention for a short while before it was turned to some pretty young thing that you could never live up to, it was better to enjoy it while you could.

For now, though, you would take comfort in the fact that no matter who went home with him tonight, it’d be you Shanks spends the early hours with.

—

Three hours later, you wished you were back on the ship.

There you were, as you always seemed to be, hunched over your drink, and glaring daggers at the far wall. Behind you, Shanks had his good arm around a man with a woman leaning against his other shoulder. He was laughing, mouth stained red to match the bite mark on the woman’s collarbone. She looked a little pale, but no worse for wear. Shanks was always careful never to take too much.

Not that you would know. Your worst fear, on the off chance he ever fed off you directly, was that you would make an embarrassing noise. A whine, or god forbid a moan. That would be something you would never live down. Shanks would tease you to hell and back.

“Is this seat taken?” An unknown voice, smooth like butter, asked.

You didn’t bother to turn. “Knock yourself out.”

You heard the stool squeak as it was pulled out. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a dark shape settle next to you. A pale, almost dainty hand cradled a wine glass full of rich, red fluid. You shook slightly when a pair of golden eyes landed on you, realizing who had settled himself next to you.

While you knew of Mihawk, though you never met him personally. He was an old rival (friend?) of Shanks’ who visited the crew every so often. Mihawk never stuck around too long. You figured the captain got to be too much for him to handle, not that you could blame Mihawk for his frustration. As much as you loved the captain, Shanks was especially annoying sometimes.

A booming laugh from behind you made your eye twitch as Shanks pulled the man closer against his side.

Like right now.

“There’s no need to glare. I don’t believe your drink is going anywhere. ”

Your head shot up, blinking a few times at the swordsman. “You never know, odder things have happened.”

Like your captain, he was a vampire. If you didn’t know that before, you sure as hell knew that now. Mihawk was almost ethereal in his beauty, with piercing golden eyes and alabaster skin that seemed to glow in the dim light. His fangs were longer than your captain’s. Where Shanks could almost pass for a human, you knew from a glance what Mihawk was. There was no mistaking it. He was a vampire in peak form and you had his full attention.

You watched Mihawk cock his head to the side, sizing you up. “Odder than a walking mug?”

“We are sitting in a bar full of vampire pirates. My mug could start flying and I wouldn’t blink an eye.”

His lips twitched upwards into an almost imperceptible smile. “What is truly odd is why a beautiful creature such as yourself is sitting all alone. Don’t you know there are predators about?”

“I’m with Shanks.” You didn’t have to say anything more than that. Both of you knew no one would dare feed from a human that belonged to Red-Haired Shanks.

“Are you now? It’s a shame it took me so long to make your acquaintance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you studied Mihawk while he watched you in return. Though your gaze was intense, your smile was easy. You were enjoying the banter. “That’s funny, because I know you know who I am. I’ve been on Shanks’ crew for over a decade now, and I wouldn’t have escaped your notice for so long.”

Mihawk’s expression shifted to what could only be described as pleased. “You’d be right. Shanks talks about you <i>incessantly<i>. Now I see why.”

You couldn’t help but flush. It hadn’t processed that Mihawk took your hand in his until his lips pressed against the back of it. That only served to make your face burn hotter.

Before you could respond, Mihawk’s lips twitched into a smirk. “That expression on you is enchanting.”

“A-Are you flirting with me,” You stammered. It had been a long time since someone had shown interest in you. Sure, people were friendly, but genuine flirtation was hard to come by. To have someone as beautiful as Mihawk giving you attention made your head spin.

He gave you a slight smirk, muttering into his skin, “Now I see your captain isn’t the only one at fault here.”

There was a sharp prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Mihawk must have felt it too because his eyebrow twitched. Whatever you expected when you turned, it wasn’t Shanks glaring daggers at the man in front of you, his pupils barely visible slits. He looked dangerously mad.

Mihawk gently turned your hand over to reveal the inside of your wrist. Right on your pulse point, he took a deep inhale, savoring you as if you were a fine wine. “Ignore him. He’s a child who's had his favorite toy taken away.”

“Y/N is not my toy.” Before you could blink, your back was pressed against Shanks’ chest. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you against him as Mihawk’s fingers tightened around your wrist. Shanks pressed his nose in your hair, lips against your ear. “Is he bothering you? Say the word and he leaves.”

“No, no not at all. We were just talking.”

Shanks squeezed you against him. “He was looking at you like you were a meal.”

“Hilarious coming from the captain who forbade his crew from drinking their blood,” Mihawk said. “I always knew you didn’t like to share your food, Red-Hair, but this is ridiculous.”

“Wait, were you flirting or were you hungry,” You asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice. Both men noticed, Mihawk responding with amusement and Shanks by tightening his grip on your shoulders.

“Why couldn’t it have been both?”

A low growl rumbled in Shanks’ chest. “You are not eating my crewmate.”

Mihawk ignored him, piercing your eyes with his own. “Originally, I introduced myself with the intention to meddle, but you have captivated me, Y/N.” His thumb rubbed cool circles around your pulse. “What do you have to say about that? Surely, you can take responsibility.”

“Um.” Stuck between two gorgeous men, one audibly snarling at the other, you couldn’t begin to reign in your thoughts. “That’s very sweet.”

Shanks must have felt you trembling and assumed it was from fear. His hold on you loosened, hand rubbing soothingly against your upper arm.

“It’s not sweet, it’s creepy,” He argued. “You’re scaring them.”

“Actually, he’s been very kind.” You leaned your head back to look at his face in time to see Shanks’ eyebrows jump in surprise.

Mihawk cocked his head to the side. “Unlike you, Red-Hair. How many times have you left this adorable little human by the wayside to take others to your bed.”

“They don’t care about that, we have our thing.” Shanks looked at you, expectant. “Right?”

Your brow furrowed. “What ‘thing?’”

“Our thing,” Shanks insisted. “Our cat and mouse. I chase, you push me away, I keep chasing. It’s been going on for years.”

Flipping around to face him, you fought to keep your jaw off the floor. “Shanks, are you telling me that you think we have had a ‘cat and mouse’ romance brewing for the better part of a decade?”

“Are you telling me you don’t know?”

“You sleep around all the time, but you never make any advances towards me! How am I supposed to know you’re interested in me when you flirt with anything that has a pulse?” You hung your head and sighed. “I’ve spent all this time pining over an unrequited love that isn’t even unrequited.”

“I always thought you weren’t ready for that step, I was waiting for you to initiate.” Shanks looked more flustered than you’d ever seen him. It was strange to see your normally confident captain flounder. “I can be patient when I want.” He paused for a moment, swallowing hard. “I had no idea that was how you felt. I’m sorry.”

Mihawk interrupted by slipping around you to stand beside Shanks. “As amusing as this is, I have a proposition for Y/N.”

You ignored Shanks’ pout and turned your attention to Mihawk. “And that is?”

“Allow me to take you on a date.”

Shanks butt in before you could respond. “Let me take you on a date. I want to make it up to you and I have ten years to make up for.”

You had two options before you. Your long time love, who idiotically strung you along with his poor communication skills, or the handsome vampire you met at the bar who may or may not eat you. You were a lowly human in the face of a supernatural choice. At times, you were sure you would wake up back at the ship, the entire night having been a dream.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hard to make your decision, you already knew what you wanted.

With a smile, you said, “Why don’t you both take me out tomorrow night?”

The two men shared a glance, the spark of old rivalry flashing across their faces before they gave you their answer. Shanks with a one-armed hug, and Mihawk with a final kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s a date.”

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 10

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 13.4k

(CW: SMUT 18+, unprotected p in v sex, Astarion deserves to feel so good he cries during sex so I let him)

Summary:

“I was so scared to love you at first,” Astarion says softly. He hardly knows what sentiment he is trying to convey other than his earth-shattering love for you, but the words are burning at his throat, forcing their way out before he can think. “I was so scared that you would make me weak and powerless. I know better now. In truth, you are the one who encourages me to be strong. You are the one who showed me the light after so long being trapped in the darkness.”

“If I am your sun, then you are my moon,” you say. “There is not one without the other. All my beauty, all my love, reflects and shines off you. You are the stars themselves, Astarion, shining and shimmering against the blackness of night. Always recognizable, always able to guide me home.”

He dips down to press a slow kiss to your lips so you do not keep saying beautiful words that make him want to cry. 

Read on ao3 here

There is no feeling in the world that could compare to the feeling of being wrapped in Astarion’s arms, even if you are still sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the desk Astarion just fucked you on. Your whole body is warm and relaxed and the moment could nearly be described as perfect.

Nearly, but not quite. 

Because when you had been baring your heart to Astarion earlier, there had been one teeny, tiny, miniscule, little detail that you had neglected to mention. And when he’s looking at you with soft, gooey eyes and you feel a guilty pit in your stomach, you realize that you probably need to be honest with him about everything. 

“Wait… I have something I need to show you, too.”

You push Astarion away from you so you can clamber off the desk. The cool air on your sweaty skin makes you shiver and you retrieve your chemise from the floor. It will take too long to redo your corset and you doubt Astarion will want to help you put it back on, so you settle for just the chemise. It’s not that long of a walk to your room and you’re sure Astarion will threaten to gouge out any servant’s eyes should someone happen to see you.

“Alas, I miss the sight of your perfect body already,” Astarion sighs, leaning against the desk as he watches you. 

Astarion’s pouting at you with big, sad eyes like you have just given him the worst news in the world and not as if you have simply covered yourself in a thin layer of cotton.

He’s already slipped his pants up back around his hips and shrugged his own shirt back on, though it’s loose and untucked. The flowing, open collar leaves the top of his chest on display and the combination of his pale skin coupled with the pink blush staining his cheeks leaves you breathless for a moment. No matter how long you look at him, study him, memorize his features, his beauty will never grow old. It will always continue to amaze you that this man exists and that he chose to love you.

“Come on, casanova,” you giggle, grabbing his hand to tug him in the direction of your room. 

Astarion digs his heels into the ground and tugs you back to him, anchoring you against the line of his body with an arm around your waist. He appears uncharacteristically shy as he looks down at your interlaced fingers and gently runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Does this mean you’re going to move back into our room now?” Astarion asks in a quiet voice. 

Our room. Your stomach flutters when you hear him call it that. 

Astarion rushes to explain when you don’t give him an immediate answer. “I mean, I know it’s not like we need to sleep or anything and you deserve to have your own space and I understand completely if you don’t want to yet. Or ever. I’m not-”

Astarion cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. 

“It’s your choice,” he says and for the first time it feels like he’s actually heard you. That he’s actually trying to do better. “But I will tell you that I miss holding you.”

“I miss holding you, too,” you confess to Astarion. “And thank you- for letting this be my decision, although I do believe our interests align on this issue. I’d love nothing more than to join you again in our room.”

You give Astarion’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“But I do like having my own space. Maybe we work on getting me a room like your study,” you offer up as an idea. So far, you had been rather neglectful of your duties as Lady Ancunin, so perhaps it was time to actually start attending to those now that your life was relatively stable. 

“Pick whatever room you’d like, and it’s yours,” Astarion says. “We can start buying new furniture as soon as tomorrow.”

“Maybe we could look at getting me a desk to match yours,” you tease Astarion, wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling him down closer to you. “Maybe next time you bend me over it instead.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Astarion chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

You sigh happily into the kiss, content to spend the rest of your day making up for all the sweet kisses you had missed out on while you and Astarion were spending time apart. Astarion pulls away from you far too soon.

“You had something to show me,” he reminds you, nudging his nose against yours.

“Right.” You detangle yourself from his arms and tug on his hand again, leading him out of his study and down the hallway to your room.

“Do I get a hint?” Astarion asks as you walk.

“Um…” you trail off, trying to think of a good answer. You never meant to spring the gems on Astarion, but it seems like it will be so much easier to explain if he just sees them and hears your full explanation at the same time. “It’s nothing bad. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Ominous.”

When you enter your room, you lead Astarion over to your bookshelf before dropping his hand. He watches you curiously as you take a deep breath and pluck the book off the shelf. You can’t help but worry that Astarion is going to feel betrayed that you haven’t told him about the gems yet. 

“Please don’t be mad at me?” you ask.

“You’re not off to a strong start, my love.” Astarion teases, but you can tell your words have made him uneasy by the way his brow creases and his whole body tenses. He glances down at the cover of the book in your hands. “A Study of Balduran Flowers? I believe you will find that I don’t have nearly as many opinions about gardening as you do. Not unless it involves those pretty bouquets you used to bring me.” 

“It’s inside the book,” you explain.

“Well, yes, that’s normally how books work.”

You’re both deflecting. It was always easier to fall back into teasing rather than sit in uncomfortable moments. You could play this off as some silly joke and slide the book back onto your shelf and keep these gems for yourself forever. But you and Astarion were equals now and he deserved to know information that involved him. 

You steel yourself for what you need to do, but you want to get your explanation out before Astarion sees the gems and either grows distracted or angry. 

“It’s never really felt like the right time to bring this up. I tried back in- Well, I didn’t really try that hard. I didn’t want to play our hand to Raphael. And after, I’ve just been a little preoccupied.”

You open the book. The inside is hollowed out and inside the paper edges sit the three gemstones. Astarion’s mouth hangs open in shock for a moment before he’s pulling the book from your hands, picking out each gem to hold them up to the candlelight for inspection. 

He looks at you in disbelief. “You- how did you get these?”

“When I was young, my mother had a necklace,” you explain. “I used to always think the green gem was so pretty. She gave it to me right before she died and I was lucky that my father never bothered himself enough with me to care what trivial possessions I owned. It was sent here with the rest of my belongings.”

“Your mother…” Astarion looks stunned.

“She was from Baldur’s Gate, you know,” you say. It had never occurred to you how little you had shared about her with Astarion. “She was a direct descendent from one of the original families that founded the city.”

Astarion finally tears his gaze away from the gems. “How did you get the other two?”

“Oh, that was easy.” You grin. “You left me alone for a bit. Do you remember? You went over to the inn to tell Shadowheart to draw me a bath and I just… slipped them into my skirt when no one was looking. They seemed too important to just leave there."

And then, still staring intently at gems, Astarion is just walking out of the room with a single-minded focus. 

“Where are you going?” You call out after him but he doesn’t slow down or turn around to answer you. 

You huff, grabbing your dressing robe from the chair at your vanity and chasing after Astarion, frantically trying to pull the robe over your arms as you try to catch up to him. 

Eventually, he comes to stop at the library. Gale is sitting at a table in the center of the room, surrounded by books, and Astarion drops your hollowed out book with the gems on the desk next to Gale with a loud thump. 

“What’s-” Gale sputters at the intrusion before he sees the gems hidden inside the book. “The gems! But there’s three of them? How?”

And Astarion just starts laughing- a full body, side-splitting laugh that has him wheezing and holding onto the table to support himself. Gale just looks at Astarion as if he’s lost his mind. 

“The whole time.” Astarion finally manages to choke out in between laughs. “She had the last gem this whole time.”

Gale’s mouth hangs open in shock as his attention turns to you. He spends another moment looking utterly perplexed before a wide smile fills his face and he starts chuckling, too. 

“Oh, that’s just too good,” Gale says. “I couldn’t have written that better myself.”

With two grown men giggling like children in front of you, you can’t help but succumb to the infectious mood, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, as well.

“If you would have just told me,” you wheeze out at Astarion, which sets all of you off laughing again. 

Gale bangs his fist down on the table while he tries to catch his breath in between fits of laughter and your sides are aching and you’re just so relieved that this weight has been lifted off your shoulders and that Astarion isn’t upset with you. 

It takes minutes for the laughter to finally die down. You think you catch Astarion wiping tears away from his eyes. 

“So, all three gems,” Gale says. He looks a bit awestruck as he examines each gemstones. “How did you have one?”

And as Gale looks up at you for an explanation, no longer distracted by the shiny gemstones or Astarion’s manic laughter, his eyes widen and his face turns bright red when he finally recognizes you are only dressed in your chemise and dressing robe. Gale awkwardly clears his throat and his eyes quickly dart back down to the gems and you pull the robe tighter around yourself. 

Astarion just shoots you a smirk and it occurs to you how disheveled you both look. Astarion’s shirt is hanging open and exposing half his chest. His normally meticulously styled hair is messy from where your hands had held tightly onto his curls as he’d eaten you out like you were his last meal. And you’re sure your own hair is a mess and wait- is that a bit of leftover blood that you feel drying on your chin?

It’s all rather damning evidence that the two of you had just had sex. Which, you had, but Gale didn’t need to know that. 

With your arms crossed tightly over your chest and Astarion staring at you with a smug grin, you quickly explain your mother’s necklace to Gale.

“Makes sense,” Gale hums, sliding the pair of glasses he is wearing down his nose as he closely inspects each gem. “When the gems were originally taken from the crown and split up, I believe they were given to three of the founding families of Baldur’s Gate as a safety precaution. The history behind the gem was probably lost with time as it was passed down, or as a strategic move so that people like Raphael would have a more difficult time finding them. I believe that’s how Cazador had one in his possession, as well, as heir to the Szarr family. The other was sold and stolen, several times over before we found it with Gortash.”

You recognize Gortash’s name. As a member of nobility, you were not completely unaware of the gossip coming from society in Baldur’s Gate. You had heard whispers of the man fighting to make a name for himself and about his subsequent untimely death.

“Ugh, Gortash,” Astarion groans, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “I hated him. He was too full of himself.”

You and Gale shoot each other little snickers because it’s a bit ridiculous to hear Astarion describe someone else as ‘too full of themselves.’ Pot, kettle, and all that. 

And Gale does not seem to be done having fun at Astarion’s expense.

“So, the two of you made up?” Gale asks.

Your face feels hot, but Astarion preens. 

“Yes, we did,” he says. “Though I believe we have a more pressing issue at hand. We have all three gems. Now the question is- what can we do with them?” 

An unfamiliar, hungry gleam has entered Astarion’s eye. You thought you had seen all types of hunger from Astarion, but this look is different. This is something far crueler. 

“I’d urge caution,” Gale says, his voice slow and calm, as if he is trying to talk Astarion from jumping off a ledge. “This is a powerful relic. It is not to be trifled with.”

Astarion ignores Gale’s warning, laser focused on an idea. “There was a ritual that Cazador was attempting before Raphael killed him. It was a sacrifice of spawn to Mephisopheles in order to become a higher being- the vampire ascendent. He would no longer be bound by the restrictions of a vampire- it would have allowed him to taste, to walk in the sun.” Astarion’s voice grows cold and unrecognizable. “It would have granted him unfathomable power.

“Why are you bringing this up?” You ask, weary. 

“What if Mephistopheles wants these gems to recreate the crown himself?” Astarion asks, like this is the logical conclusion that anyone would have drawn from his explanation. 

And you can’t lie, a part of you is tempted by the idea of this ritual. Of being able to see the light of day again and no longer being trapped in an eternal night. Of not constantly being burdened by this hunger and this incessant hyper-awareness of everyone’s blood rushing through their veins. 

But in your time married to Astarion, you knew intimately when Astarion was purposefully withholding details. There was no way that this level of power was granted without paying a price.

And you know Astarion. He looks out for himself, first and foremost. To a lesser extent, Astarion also looks out for you, though whether his actions are motivated by true love or his own selfish desire to stay in your good graces, you will never know. 

While in less dire circumstances, his disregard for consequences could be tolerated, the gleam in his eye betrays his hunger. You had hoped that he learned his lesson about dealing with devils, but evidently the power of ascension was too appealing to him. 

“What was the sacrifice?” You ask quietly.

“The souls of 7,007 vampires and spawn.” Astarion hurriedly answers without turning to look at you, as if the death of thousands of people was a mere pittance. “Or, well, 7,008 if you include the person performing the ritual since they would lose their soul, as well. But I don’t know if we would have to do that part since we already have something Mephistopheles wants.”

You’re mildly relieved that Astarion didn’t actually just propose murdering 7,000 people. 

Another question nags at you. “Would you still lose your soul?”

“Not just me, darling. We.” Astarion finally turns to you, cupping your face in his palms. “The vampire ascendants. King and Queen.”

You frown. “It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go around making deals with devils again.”

“This isn’t a deal, it’s a transaction,” Astarion says, voice hard and unimpressed. You don’t really understand the difference. He seems disappointed in your lack of an awed reaction at his idea. “It’s something given, something gained and we all part ways at the end with no contracts lingering over our heads.” 

“You don’t even know if it will work,” you say, treading lightly. Astarion seems fragile and a bit manic right now and you had to be careful not to push him into becoming defensive. You bring your hand up to wrap around his own, where he’s still cupping your face.

“But we can try,” Astarion practically begs you.

Why was he so insistent upon this idea? Surely, this couldn’t all just be about gaining power.  

“Maybe think about it a while longer. I’ll do some research,” Gale implores. 

“Fine,” Astarion drops his hand from your face. “I’ll be in my study. Come find me when you realize ascension is our best option.” 

You watch as Astarion storms off in a huff.

“I’ll talk to him once he’s calmed down,” you reassure Gale.

“You don’t want to do the ritual, right?” Gale asks you uneasily.

“No.” You laugh. “That whole thing sounds like a recipe for disaster. But we need to let Astarion realize that for himself. He gets argumentative and defensive when anyone tells him that he’s wrong.”

“So do you,” Gale points out.

“That’s why he and I work well together. I’m the only person more stubborn than he is.”

When you make your way to Astarion’s study, you find him pacing and muttering to himself, no doubt attempting to concoct the perfect, elaborate argument that will point out every flaw in the opposition’s argument and convince everyone that Astarion is right. 

He stops pacing when he sees you. 

“We have an ace up our sleeve and Gale isn’t letting us play our hand. He’s squandering this once in a lifetime opportunity for us,” Astarion gruffly complains.

“My love, he’s not squandering it,” you say, approaching Astarion and calmly running your hand soothingly down the length of his back. He’s too worked up right now, you’re not sure he will listen to you. “Gale is simply reminding us that we shouldn’t rush into a decision without thinking through all the potential consequences.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Oh, not you, too! Look, you two can sit in your moral superiority and accuse me of being power-hungry, but I am the one taking actionable steps to ensure our safety.”

“That’s not- Look, Astarion, you proposed one idea. Sometimes, the first idea is the best idea and sometimes, it isn’t. I want us to be thorough before we throw away such a powerful bargaining chip.”

You can feel the muscles in Astarion’s back relaxing when he realizes that you are not trying to argue with him. 

“You’ll come to see my side of things in time,” Astarion turns away from you as if the matter has been settled. 

“You do realize that you’re making choices without asking me what I’m thinking again, star,” you say, voice flat. 

Astarion’s whole body tenses. “But I haven’t actually made the choice yet.”

“No, but you’ve already made up your mind,” you tell him. “And you’re acting like you know what’s best for me better than I do. 

“That’s- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me,” Astarion stumbles over his words, rushing to apologize. His hand comes up to rest on your cheek. You are sure this is him seeking to ground himself, fighting to alleviate the panic that he has already committed a grave mistake so soon after the two of you had reunited. 

“I’m not angry.” You dip your head to press a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist. “We’re having a discussion. That’s what married couples do.”

Astarion nods and you catch the relieved sigh he releases. Evidently, there were still some insecurities you needed to reassure Astarion about if he was still concerned that you would flee at the first sign of an argument. 

“Can I ask why you seem so intent on using the gems for this purpose?” you ask him softly.

His thumb stokes along your cheekbone and he looks at you with wide, soft eyes.

“For us, little flower.” 

And then, because Astarion knows you better than anyone and knows exactly what arguments will pull at your heartstrings, he asks, “Don’t you miss the sunlight? Don’t you miss the gardens?”

Damn it all if that doesn’t give you pause for a moment. Because you do miss the sunlight. Desperately. When you had first been turned into a vampire, there was still snow on the ground and now, gentle summer breezes were beginning to roll in during the day. You had already missed the entire spring. You had missed stretching out in the sunlight in the gardens and reading, with Tara curled up next you and beautiful blooming flowers surrounding you. 

“Just think, my love, you could walk in the sun again. You wouldn’t be limited by your bloodlust. We’d be free. I’d-” Astarion cuts himself off, a slip of the tongue. “We’d finally be safe.”

So, there it is. That’s what he was so worried about. Safety. Freedom. 

Astarion has not had power over himself in a very long time and he believes that if he’s given this power, no one can ever hurt him again. 

It’s all about fear. It was always about fear. Fear of being too weak and becoming enslaved again, fear that he will never be able to escape from Cazador’s shadow, fear of not being worth more than what he can offer others.

He’s wrong, of course, but you can’t just tell him that. 

“I’m a bit worried about the whole maybe having to sell my soul thing,” you say, instead, bringing up one of your many valid concerns while also trying to infuse a tiny bit of humor into the situation. You knew Astarion did better in that space, that he didn't shut down quite so quickly. 

“I’ve done it before.” Astarion gives you an arrogant smirk. “It worked out all right in the end for me.”

“Because we killed Raphael. And he wasn’t even a full archdevil like his father,” you point out. “But a soul is not something you can carelessly toss aside. It’s a part of you.” You reach out, letting your fingers slip beneath the open collar of his loose shirt and trace over where his undead heart sits inside his chest. You look up at him under your lashes. “And I love you. All of you. I don’t want you to change.”

“All of me?” Astarion asks, a bit incredulous. 

“Even the parts of you that you don’t love. Though there aren’t many,” you tease, before you go back to being genuine. “I love that in spite of everything that has happened to you, you still love with the full force of your heart.”

“I don’t have a heart,” Astarion says, with a cheeky little grin.

You roll your eyes. “Metaphorical heart. Now, stop interrupting if you want me to keep saying sweet things to you.”

“I’m sorry, please continue.”

“Let’s see- what else do I love about you? Well, you’re certainly easy on the eyes,” you say and Astarion laughs. “And you’re surprisingly funny for someone who used to study law. You have me smiling or laughing at just about everything you say. And you’re cunning and shrewd, you don’t let people take advantage of you or get away with anything. And you’re so strong. You have lived through the worst tortures anyone could imagine and you survived. You were the one that came out of that situation victorious and fought to make a new life for yourself.”

With that, Astarion melts into your arms, tucking his face in the curve of your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

“But mostly, I love your hair,” you say with a grin, because you can’t resist. 

“Thank you,” Astarion says, but his voice cracks a bit, letting you know how much your little speech truly impacted him. “People don’t compliment me on my hair nearly as often as they should.”

You hug Astarion tighter. “Sounds like a job for your wife.”

You let Astarion sit in that comfort for as long as he needs, keeping your arms wrapped so, so, so tight around one another. Eventually, you turn your head a bit, whispering into his soft hair. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But that’s okay. We shouldn’t let ourselves be ruled by our fear.”

 “You’re right, little flower.” Astarion finally pulls his face out of your neck to look at you, pushing a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “I have been a slave to this fear for too long. It’s time to stop letting it control me.”

You smile at him. “So, no ritual? We’ll find something better to do with the gems?”

He sighs. “You’ve managed to convince me. No ascension.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Astarion threads his fingers through your hair and pulls you toward him for a kiss. 

“Besides,” you kiss along his neck to whisper in his ear. “If power is what you want, there are much easier ways to get it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobles are idiots. They’re practically begging for someone to lead them. And really,” you murmur, ghosting your lips over Astarion’s. “Who is better suited for the job than us? They can come and go. We’ll remain.”

Astarion groans. “There aren’t enough words for how deeply I love you.” 

He closes the distance and kisses you. 

—----------------

The nightmare happens when you least expect it. You and Astarion were lying in bed together and you were so comfortable and relaxed that before you noticed, you had just… drifted off to sleep. 

Suddenly Raphael’s cold, dead stare bores into you. His empty eyes are underlined by the ragged laceration where his throat had been slit. The congealed blood soaks the devil’s shirt and the air reeks of eternal, rotting damnation. Even in death, his face emotes- twisted in surprise, his mouth stretched in a silent scream.

But it’s the eyes. It’s always the eyes that rip the breath from your lungs and inject a horrible sense of dread into your veins. 

You don’t jolt yourself out of it or wake up screaming. It’s not like one of Astarion’s disorienting nightmares which leave him unable to tell the difference between memory and reality. There’s just the devil’s dead face and then suddenly, you’re blinking awake. You stare at the pale scars on Astarion’s back, trembling. The image of Raphael weighs too heavily in your mind.

You can tell by the sound of Astarion’s rhythmic breathing that he’s still asleep. Your arm is still slung over his waist and his fingers are still loosely entangled with yours. 

Good, let him sleep peacefully for once, you think.

The last thing you want to do is disturb him, but you need to do something. You can’t just let your mind sit in this image forever or it might wind up getting stuck there. Wrapping your arm tighter around Astarion’s midsection, you rest your forehead against his back, letting yourself sniffle as quiet tears leak from your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Astarion asks almost immediately, as if he has some supernatural ability to sense your distress. His voice is still soft and low with sleep as he turns around to gently brush away your tears.

“Raphael,” you choke out.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Astarion comforts you, pulling you tight against his chest and pressing a kiss to your forehead. His fingers run soothingly through your hair. “He’s dead. I promise you that he’s dead. We’re safe. He can never hurt either of us again.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to Astarion. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

It felt like an intrusion- after all the chaos of the last few months, life had finally fallen into a rhythm again. You couldn’t have nightmares if you weren’t sleeping and now, there was always so much to do. Especially since Astarion had actually started performing the duties as Lord Ancunin that he had been neglecting while he was searching for the gem. 

No, now sleep was saved for the quiet moments like this, where you and Astarion were just so comfortable and relaxed that your eyes couldn’t help but shut.

Quiet moments that were ruined by your inability to just get over Raphael.

“Never apologize for waking me,” Astarion says. You open your mouth to point out that he always apologizes when he wakes you, but Astarion shushes you before you can speak. “That’s rather hypocritical coming from me, I know.”

“How do you get past it? Because the dreams seemingly come to me at random and I fear what I might see every time I try to sleep.”

“Baths… reading… writing… talking to someone…” Astarion slowly lists, as the answers come to him. “If you can get your mind out of the hole it’s dug itself into with a good distraction, I think you’ll find that the images aren’t quite so visceral when they come back to you later. I mean- it’s usually still bad, but it feels further away. The emotions feel removed.”

Nightmares were one of Astarion’s area of expertise, so you should probably listen to him. You choose to try to distract yourself while talking. 

“Would you ever want to be mortal again?” you ask Astarion, attempting to focus on tracing along the veins inside his wrist rather than the image of Raphael’s lifeless stare in your mind. 

It was a question which had been plaguing you a lot lately as Gale researched a way to use the gems to help you and Astarion walk in the sun again. The gems were tied to the magic of the gods, so you all agreed it only seemed natural that they should offer some solution to your predicament. 

But, as Gale worked and worked and worked and still came up with nothing, there was a part of you that was wondering why you didn’t just cut your losses and search for a cure to your vampirism as a whole. 

“Would you?” Astarion deflects by turning the question back on you. “I’d do anything that would make you happy, my love.”

You frown. “That’s not what I asked, star. I don’t want to know if you’d just go along with my desires. I want to know what you want.”

And Astarion looks confused, like he has never been asked to think about or plan for a future, like the concept is so foreign to him that he doesn’t even know where to begin. Astarion had been trapped in survival mode for so long, he didn’t know how to look further than a few days in front of him. Even marrying you had been an unplanned, spur of the moment idea. 

“You know what?” He sounds almost in disbelief of his own answer. “I don’t think I would want to be mortal again. I like being better than everybody- stronger, sharper, more powerful. And sure, some of the limitations can be a nuisance, but it’s not enough for me to want to throw away all the benefits.”

“And that’s not because of fear?” you check with him, studying his face. 

He shrugs. “Maybe part of it is. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. I just know that being a vampire is what feels right for me. I’m not the same man I was before. I like the man I am now, the man you’ve helped me become. I don’t want to do anything to change that.”

The man you’ve helped me become.

Oh, he was so sweet.

“Would you want to be human again?” Astarion asks you again. “I know that this transition has been… less than ideal for you.”

“It would be easier, wouldn’t it?” you ponder aloud. It would be the easy solution, but not the solution you truly desire. “But no. Even before I died, I knew that I would want this. I just… my death was a bit more traumatic than I hoped.”

Astarion must sense that you are beginning to stew in hazy memories of that unfortunate moment, growing dangerously close to those images of Raphael’s dead stare. Astarion distracts you again. “You know what my first thought was when you reawoke?”

You shake your head and Astarion grins, shifting his weight on top of you. His forearms frame either side of your head and he runs his nose along the artery in your throat that he always used to adore so much, back when you were alive.

“I thought you looked ravishing. I wanted nothing more than to be your first victim.” Astarion drags his fangs gently along the skin of your throat as he speaks in a low, rasping voice. “It drove me half mad to see you like that. And right away, you knew what to do. Pure instinct, no hesitation. Not all vampires are gifted with that capability. But you were made for this. My perfect vampire bride.”

Astarion bites lightly at your skin to accentuate his point and you moan. 

“You’re a good distraction,” you say, a bit breathless. 

“The best distraction.” 

Astarion’s hand snakes down, beginning to drag the hem of your dress further up your leg. You can feel his cock hardening where it rubs against your hip.

Insatiable, your husband. 

“We don’t need to rush, dear,” Astarion reminds you, though you catch the dual meaning in his words. You do not need to rush for answers. And he will not rush when he fucks you. He will take his time, enjoying every delicious moment of pleasure he can wring from your body. His lips brush along your jaw, back toward your mouth. “We’ll find the answers when they come to us.” 

You sigh. “I know, but I was just hoping they would come to us before all the flowers start dying. Halsin said the sunflowers are especially beautiful this year and they just aren’t the same at night.”

“It’s too bad we can’t just trade the gems to walk in the sunlight again. Two birds with one stone. Or, well, three stones. So, six birds?” Astarion jokes.

But that would be too easy, right?

… Right?

“You’re a genius!” You cry out and pull Astarion’s head down to press a big, wet kiss on his forehead. 

“What did I-” Astarion starts to ask before you watch the idea form in his own mind in real time. “It can’t be that easy, can it?”

“What if it is?” You ask, reinvigorated. “What if we don’t become mortal again or go through with that frankly insane Ascension ritual idea, but we just ask Mephistopheles to maybe…” 

“We change the rules!” Astarion finishes your thought with an excited cry. “We decide which parts of being a vampire we hate the most and we just… get rid of those parts.”

You both sit up in the bed, facing each other, giddy with the new idea.

“Okay, so, sunlight,” you say, attempting to start forming your list of requests. Though, Astarion probably has a better idea about which parts of being a vampire were the most insufferable after his centuries living as one. “And what else?”

Astarion thinks for a minute. 

“It’d be nice to at least be able to taste food again. We don’t even need it to sustain us or anything but just… not have everything taste like piss and vinegar.” His nose wrinkles in disgust. 

“That’s a good one,” you say when he looks at you for confirmation. 

“And mirrors. I know we have our portraits, but I’d like to be able to see myself again,” Astarion adds in a quiet voice, like he’s almost embarrassed at the admission. 

“So, sunlight, food, and reflections,” you count them all on your fingers. “That feels like a good list. Three gems, three requests. It seems fair.”

“Oh, Gale’s going to be devastated that we beat him to an answer,” Astarion teases and you can tell how genuinely gleeful he is at the idea of holding this over Gale’s head. 

You laugh and your dream about Raphael fades like a distant memory. For the first time in weeks, you let yourself have a little hope that together, the two of you might figure this out. 

—-----------------

“Stop pacing, it’s making me nervous,” you tell Astarion.

He just keeps walking along the patch of sand in front of you- back and forth, back and forth, back and forth- on a loop. It was almost making you dizzy.

“Sorry,” Astarion comes to sit on the rock beside you but he starts fidgeting nervously almost immediately. You hold out your hand for him and he grabs it greedily, tracing the lines in your hands over and over and over again just to give him something to focus on other than his nerves.

The chilly water brushes over your toes as the gentle sea waves roll in and out. You continue watching Gale as he crouches in the sand, drawing the summoning circle with an impressive stick he had found along the shore.

Apparently, the summoning circle was an intricate ritual which required all of Gale’s focus. It doesn’t really seem that hard. It kind of just looks like he’s playing in the sand. But whatever, you didn’t really want Mephistopheles breaking free and raining hellfire upon you, so you were choosing to listen to Gale and stay out of his way so he could concentrate.

Shadowheart holds up a lantern for Gale so that he can double check his work with the pattern in his book and she keeps shooting you annoyed looks that have you giggling. She was already huffy enough about the fact that you made her come out at night to participate in the summoning, but then you had the audacity to not even give her something exciting to do?

You and Astarion had actually dragged everyone out here, just in case. Best case scenario, this whole trade goes according to plan and everything works out perfectly. Worst case scenario… Well, you really didn’t want to fight another devil without some backup. 

Everyone else is scattered around the rest of the beach. You faintly hear Karlach and Wyll laughing in the distance. They had all been giving you and Astarion your space, as if they could sense how nervous you both were. And also possibly because Astarion had been pacing all afternoon as if with enough walking, he might just be able to wear down the surface of the earth and appear in the hells, himself. 

When you had first approached Gale with the idea of using the gems to rewrite the rules of vampirism, you knew immediately that you would need to summon Mephistopheles to perform the trade. The cottage by the sea had been suggested as an ideal location due to its remote landscape. And really, no one had been too excited about the idea of inviting a powerful archdevil inside the very opulent, very flammable Ancunin manor.

“You ready?” Gale interrupts your quiet reflection and Astarion’s nervous fidgeting. “I triple checked the summoning circle. Not like it was necessary. I had it right on the first go, of course, but I am nothing if not thorough.”

Astarion drops your hand and jumps up almost immediately. You stand up, as well, walking over toward Gale and the circle.

“You both remember the plan?” Gale asks.

“Yes, sir,” you salute him. You know Astarion is probably giggling behind you. 

“That’s- whatever,” Gale sighs. “If the two of you die now, it will be because you’re both annoying.”

You grin.

Gale speaks in the weird, chanting language that you had heard from Raphael and the circle appears to glow before a giant, winged man is materializing before you. The air reeks of sulfur and rotten eggs.

Mephistopheles looks down upon you. He shares an eerie similarity to Raphael, though his features are distinctly less human- his horns are bigger, his wingspan is wider, his eyes are black, burning holes. 

“Weak, pathetic mortals,” Mephistopheles growls and his voice sounds deep and ancient. “What do you want?”

“It’s not about us. We have something you want.” Astarion purrs as he saunters closer to the circle. It had been so long since you’d seen this persona, you had forgotten how charming he could truly be. “All we expect in return is a small finder’s fee.”

Mephistopheles laughs and it crackles like fire. “What could you possibly have that I would want besides your souls?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you pull one of the gems from the pocket in your skirt, laying it flat in your palm as you show it off to Mephistopheles. “Doesn’t everyone like pretty gems?”

You don’t miss the way Mephistopheles eyes blaze in recognition when he catches sight of the gem.

“One gem?” He spits out at you, trying to feign indifference. “That’s nothing.”

“Who said we only have one?” You tilt your head, passing the first gem off to Astarion as you pull the other two from your skirt.

Mephistopheles snarls at you but he’s practically drooling over the gems as he eyes them possessively. “And what stops me from simply killing you where you stand and taking them?”

“The circle?” Astarion flashes his gaze down to the intricate patterns at the devil’s feet. The way Astarion’s smiling is all dark and corrupt. Oh, you like watching him like this, especially if you know he’s on your side. “It was made by the foremost scholar in arcane arts and I can assure you, his work is correct.”

It’s weird to hear Astarion complimenting Gale. You’ll have to tease Astarion about that later. 

Mephistopheles pushes up against the edges of the summoning circle and is stopped by the invisible walls trapping him inside. He looks annoyed.

“So,” he says. “You have the Netherstones and you’re willing to give them to me. What could you possibly want in return? Immortality? Wealth? Power?” 

Astarion asks innocently, “You don’t believe we’re doing this out of the goodness of our undead hearts?”

Mephistopheles studies the both of you for a moment before he barks out another laugh. “Two vampires. Let me guess. You want to ascend.” He says the word like it’s magical, like it’s the solution to all your problems (you know it is not, even if Astarion might still partially believe it is). “You should know that the Ascension ritual is very specific. I’m not going to let you both ascend for just a couple of measly gems.”

It’s funny to hear him call them ‘measly gems’ when you know how desperately he wants them- he had been chasing after them for hundreds of years, ever since they were stolen away from him by the families who originally founded Baldur’s Gate. 

“We don’t want to ascend,” Astarion answers. The air of authority surrounding him nearly knocks you off your feet. You had gotten so used to soft, goofy Astarion that for a moment, you had forgotten how commanding, how chilling and utterly vampiric, he could truly be.

“Three requests from us. Three gems for you,” you say. “An even trade.”

Mephitsopheles looks less than impressed, as if he is going to leave before even hearing out your offer. And for a second, you lose hope. But then his gaze catches on the gems again. 

“What are the requests?” He asks, through gritted teeth, as if this whole affair is beneath him.

Astarion clears his throat, reciting the carefully practiced requests. The two of you had spent a lot of time ensuring that the archdevil could not trick you, that the wording could not be twisted into something unrecognizable. Astarion’s experience with contracts had been invaluable. “First, we want the ability to walk in the sun without damage, the same as we did before our turning. Second, we want the ability to taste food in the same way we had before our turning. And lastly, we would like the vampiric effects in regards to mirrors removed. We should be able to see our true reflection in any reflective surface.” 

Mephistopheles laughs again. “You’re asking for too much.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance as you attempt to not betray your very acute worry that Mephistopheles was going to turn down the deal completely. “Those are our conditions if you want the gems.”

“Fine. Gems first,” Mephistopheles holds out his giant hand expectantly.

“Uh uh uh,” Astarion tuts in disapproval and both you and Mephistopheles stare at Astarion in surprise. Astarion- arrogant, asshole Astarion- had the audacity to condescend a devil. You hate the fact that there’s a sweet heat of arousal pooling low in your stomach as you watch him. 

“That’s not fair, devil,” Astarion continues. “One gem for each ability. That seems more than reasonable of us, doesn’t it?”

Mephistopheles growls in anger. “Fine.”

You toss the first gem into the summoning circle and watch as Mephistopheles has to dig around in the sand to pick it up. That sight shouldn’t give you nearly as much twisted satisfaction as it does, but there’s something funny about seeing a supposedly all-powerful being drop to his knees in weakness for a silly gemstone.

Mephistopheles touches the gem and it lights up, disappearing back to the hells for him to collect later. He rises to his feet again and speaks in the weird chanting language, holding his hands out to you and Astarion. There’s a tingling in your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Astarion awkwardly moving his tongue around in his mouth.

“There,” Mephistopheles says. “You can taste again. Now, my second gem.”

You toss the second gem and Mephistopheles catches it this time. He repeats the same process- gem disappearing, him chanting and waving his hands. 

“That granted you back your reflections. Now, your precious sunlight for the final gem.”

Astarion hesitates for just a second, as if he’s reluctant to pass over this final piece of power, before he tosses the gem to Mephistopheles.

This time, the chant seems to take longer and when Mephistopheles holds out his hands to Astarion, you watch as Astarion’s skin seems to glow for a moment.  

At least it seemed like everything was working. Mephistopheles repeats the spell for you and you are momentarily surrounded by a painful, searing heat. When you emerge from your cocoon of sunlight, Mephistopheles has melted back into the earth. The sand is glassy where Gale had carved the symbols earlier. 

“We did it,” you cry out, a gleeful smile on your face. 

“We did,” Astarion says. He laughs in disbelief before pulling you into his arms, burying his face into your hair.

Waiting for the sun to rise is the longest hour of your life. 

The rest of the group had departed from the beach after the deal was finished, content to let you and Astarion enjoy your moment in private. The two of you spread out a blanket on a large rock on the shoreline. Your shoulder presses against Astarion’s as you sit, the sea-breeze dancing against your skin. 

And there, on the horizon, the sun crests, and the dark of night gives way to the pale light of dawn. 

—------------

Astarion watches the sun rise with a lump in his throat, dangerously close to crying. The only thing that holds him back is that he knows the tears would spoil the beautiful view in front of him. He wants this memory to be crisp in his mind forever.

Not that it really matters, he supposes. Now, he could spend every day for the rest of eternity watching the sun rise if he wanted to. 

And with you by his side? Well, there’s really not much more Astarion could ask for. 

Astarion had been apprehensive at first. When the first rays had touched his skin, he had flinched. It was an instinctual reaction after centuries relegated to the darkness. But when his skin didn’t light up in flames, when he didn’t smell the horrible odor of burning flesh, he had to remind himself that this moment was real. 

He didn’t need to be afraid any longer.

No, there was only the lovely warmth of the sun and the line of your body pressed comfortably against Astarion’s side. Eventually, he brings his arm up to wrap around you, tucking you further into him. You lean your head against his shoulder and he rests his head on top of yours as the two of you continue watching the brilliant orange and reds on the horizon fade into a sunny, pale blue sky. 

Astarion cannot remember a time that he has ever been happier.

Maybe he got close the night that the two of you repeated your wedding vows on the floor of your bedroom, but that moment had still been covered in the darkness of night. The light of a fire is nothing compared to the full force of the blazing sun. 

And said sun continues to rise, completely unaware of this momentous occasion, as you and Astarion sit together in silence. 

Your soft voice shocks Astarion out of his contemplative silence. “You’re doing good, right?” 

Astarion’s arm drops from around your shoulders as you move away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, Astarion can feel you studying his profile, likely checking for any signs of sadness or uncertainty. 

You will find none, of course. 

Astarion simply leans back on his palms and lets his eyes fall shut, basking in the feeling of the sun upon his skin.

“Astarion.” You press your knee into the side of Astarion’s leg, trying to get his attention. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that this is the happiest I’ve ever been,” Astarion confesses. “I never let myself dream of a moment like this and it still feels better than I could have possibly imagined.” 

He cannot hide the vulnerable shake in his voice. Nor does he feel the need to. There is no need to perform. Not around you. 

When Astarion opens his eyes, the way that you are smiling at him rivals the radiance of the sun itself. There’s a phantom fluttering in Astarion’s chest. His heart may not beat, but around you it suddenly feels as if it is fighting to come back to life.

You- his wife, his equal- with your strong will and your sarcasm and your compulsive need to have the final word.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Astarion bumps your shoulder.

“Dunno, just happy.” You hurriedly reach out to wipe away the tears that have begun to collect on your lashes.  “That’s usually why people smile.”

Astarion huffs out a breath of laughter. 

He doesn’t mention that for centuries, his smile was nothing more than a strategic ploy used to disarm and charm others. That was the past. It was time to let go of those memories. He deserves to rewrite them with moments like this- moments of pure happiness, moments where he knows that if he tries to speak, he will surely weep with joy. 

“Come on,” you say, turning your back on the sun to face Astarion. “Let me get a good look at you.”

And it seems silly that you would choose to look at him over this beautiful sunrise, but Astarion won’t complain. It feels wonderful to be seen by someone. To be finally, truly seen by someone whose only motivations to look at him are love and appreciation. 

Astarion even shows off for you a bit, puffing out his chest a bit and shaking his head as if to move his hair out of his face even though the rather embarrassing amount of pomade he requires to tame his unruly curls ensured that his perfectly coiffed hair hardly moved with the motion. 

He had perfected this hairstyle long before he was turned. Even now that he could see his reflection again, he could still do his hair blindfolded, with one hand tied behind his back.

Astarion watches as your eyes trace along his face, down the column of his throat, over his chest and shoulders, down the line of his arms that he casually reclines back upon. 

He had already shrugged his jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows before the two of you sat down. And Astarion fancies himself a bit of an expert on you. He knows you adore his forearms. He flexes them and is rewarded with your throat swallowing hungrily. 

“Well, how do I look?” Astarion smirks. “It’s no fun if you don’t tell me how beautiful I am.”

One of your hands reaches out to run along the inside of his wrist.

“The sun makes your skin practically glow.” You bring your gaze back up to his face. “And your hair!” you say with glee, reaching out to touch it. “It’s so much whiter in the sun! You’ve nearly blinded me with how handsome you are.” 

You playfully shield your eyes.

“I do apologize,” Astarion pulls your hand away from your face and plants a tender kiss on the inside of your palm. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

You laugh and Astarion’s chest blooms with warmth. 

“And what else?” Astarion breathlessly begs you to continue. 

Who needs a mirror when he has you sitting in front of him, outlined against the backdrop of a sunny day, with beautiful words of praise dripping from your tongue, sweet as honey.

“And these,” you run the pad of your thumb along the lines around Astarion’s mouth. “These are lovely.”

Astarion holds your hand against his cheek and leans into your touch. 

“You know, I used to hate my smile lines,” he shyly admits to you. Your smoldering red eyes carefully study the way his muscles move under your thumb as he talks. “I mean, I couldn’t actually see them, but I had people point them out over the years and I always hated it. Before I was a spawn, I had a happy life and that happiness etched itself upon my face. And then after I was turned, happiness was nothing more than an act I put on to lure people back to Cazador. I had almost forgotten what a true smile felt like before I met you.”

“I’m selfish. Nowadays, you give them to me so readily and yet, I still crave more,” you say. “Though I hope you never feel the need to smile for my sake.”

“No,” Astarion assures you, tilting his head to press another quick kiss to the inside of your palm. “This is as real as it gets.”

The look of pure adoration on your face leaves Astarion speechless for a moment. 

“One more compliment?” Astarion requests and you roll your eyes affectionately.

“And your eyes,” you say dreamily, brushing your fingers along the ridge of Astarion’s cheekbone. “They sparkle in the sunlight like rubies.”

“You stole my line,” Astarion pouts.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” you tease. “I would have never dreamed of saying something so cheesy before I met you.”

“It’s not about the quality of the line, it’s about the delivery,” Astarion says. “Watch and learn, my dear.” 

Astarion clears his throat and looks up at you from under his pale lashes. When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth. “My dearest heart, the way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight puts even the most expensive of rubies to shame.”

He watches as your lashes flutter and you bite on your lower lip in an attempt to fight yourself from physically swooning. There’s a proud thrum in his chest that his words are causing you to react so viscerally.

“I already knew you were beautiful in the sun, but this,” Astarion continues, leaning forward and planting his hands on either side of your hips, caging your body between his arms. His eyes dart down to your lips before he drags them back up to your hungry red eyes. “This is better than I could have ever imagined. Far better than watching you in the gardens while I was locked away in my tower.”

“Oh, my poor damsel in distress. It’s a good thing I saved you,” you say in a playfully mocking tone, reaching out to curl one of your arms around Astarion’s neck. 

Astarion knows that your words are trying to guide him into offering you a kiss as a form of repayment and although he wants nothing more than to press his lips against yours, your words have struck a chord with him.

Astarion already feels so vulnerable, so seen in the sunlight- what more is ripping his heart out of his chest and placing it in your hands? He trusts you with it completely. 

“You did save me,” Astarion’s voice is serious and he watches your eyes soften and turn gooey. “I know you’re joking but you did. From myself, from Raphael, from a life in the darkness. You have shown me love and kindness when I believed they were all but gone from the world.”

“You saved me, too, you know.” Your fingers curl in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Saved me from that horrible man that my father was trying to sell me off to. Saved me from a loveless, unhappy life. You have given me everything I could have ever wished for.”

And how wonderful it is, Astarion thinks, to have found someone who has given him hope for a future again. To know that he, in turn, stole a future for you that would be far happier than what you were originally destined for. 

He steals a quick kiss before he pulls away from you, standing up to pry off his boots. 

The water glistens in the sunlight and Astarion is struck by a memory of swimming in the sea when he was so much younger, when his family used to come to the cottage over summers and he would spend his days swimming with another boy his age. They would lay out on the rocks on the shoreline, swapping soft kisses as the sun dried their skin. 

And now, Astarion has the ability to do that again, to live like that again. To exist in that same carelessness as his youth and share that moment with the person he loves. 

“What are you doing?” you ask as he pries off his other boot.

“Going for a swim,” Astarion answers, pulling his shirt over his head. He shoots you a flirty smile, trying to tempt you. “Care to join me?”

You nod eagerly and Astarion stops pulling off his own clothes, entranced at the sight of you lifting up your skirt to roll a stocking down your leg. It faintly registers in his mind that you are putting on a show for him, taking your time to bare the skin of your calf inch by painstaking inch. 

It’s truly an award-worthy performance. 

Astarion’s mouth salivates as he pictures the soft skin of your inner thighs. It really had been too long since he’d treated himself to a bite there.

When you have set your shoes and rolled stockings off to the side, Astarion grieves as your dress falls down and covers the beautiful skin of your legs once more as you push yourself up to stand in front of him.  

“You’ll have to help me out of my clothes first,” you tease, turning around and moving your hair over one of your shoulders. 

“Oh, gods. Yes, please.” The words fall out of Astarion in a rush as he nearly trips over himself to stand behind you. He loosens the ties at the back of your dress. “You made it easy on me today. No buttons.”

You shoot Astarion a wink as you pull your dress and petticoat over your head, tossing them carelessly on the ground next to Astarion’s discarded shirt. You turn around again and Astarion dutifully begins helping you out of your corset, unlacing the pretty ribbon holding it in place as quickly as his dexterous fingers allow.

“You know,” you say, shrugging the corset off when Astarion finishes, “It’s a wonder why I even bother to wear clothes at all when you always seem determined to get me out of them.”

“I often wonder the same thing,” he sighs wistfully, leaning down to drop a kiss to your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, practically draping himself over your back. He bites your ear lightly. “You should probably just stop wearing them altogether to save me time.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You turn your head to shoot him a coquettish smile.

“Very much so,” Astarion growls, his lips grazing down your neck, following along your collarbone. “Your body is a wonder, darling. It’s meant to be appreciated.” 

You kiss Astarion’s cheek and disentangle yourself from his arms. “I’ve got it from here, smooth talker.” 

“But I’m so helpful,” Astarion pouts.

You roll your eyes at him but you’re still smiling, so Astarion knows you are amused by his antics. “Just take off your pants.” 

“You’re just as incorrigible as me, darling,” Astarion jokingly scoffs as he slips out of his trousers.

You shoot him a flirtatious smile in response as you pull your chemise over your head, depositing it in the pile with the rest of your clothes. 

But Astarion does not miss your wary glance back in the direction of the cottage. He holds his hand out for you and you instinctively entwine your fingers with his. “It’s private out here, little flower. I assure you, no one will see us.”

“I know,” you say, uncharacteristically bashful. Your gaze falls down to where your fingers are laced with Astarion’s and you bring your other hand up to fidget with the ring on his finger. “Besides, you’d threaten to kill any unfortunate soul who did manage to wander down here and I think I’d rather enjoy that.”

It’s quite a bold confession from you. 

“Oh, you like that, do you, pet? You like when I’m possessive of you?” 

“Not possessive. Protective.” you correct him. “I like that you respect my boundaries and are willing to discipline anyone who is disrespective.” Your voice drops low and silky. “Plus, you have to know how attractive you look when you protect me.”

“Keep talking like that and we aren’t even going to make it into the water before I fuck you,” Astarion growls.

You just grin at him and tug on his hand, pulling him to the edge of the large rock the two of you had been sitting on. The tide had risen in the time that the two of you had spent watching the sunrise and the gentle waves now reach the rock. You both wade deeper and deeper into the water, letting it climb up- to your knees, to your hips, to your chests.

“The water’s colder than I remember but it feels good,” you say, closing your eyes and tilting your head up to the sun. “Sun feels nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Astarion agrees, but he keeps his eyes locked on you. He can’t help but admire you like this, all peaceful and content. 

And then, out of nowhere, an errant wave of water hits Astarion in the face. He sputters while you cackle next to him. 

“My hair!” he cries out. 

You continue laughing at him, raising your hand like you’re going to push another wave of water his way.

“Don’t.” He narrows his eyes at you. “I’m not the type of man you want to mess with, darling.”

“Yes, you’re very scary,” you say sarcastically. 

Astarion reaches out like he’s going to grab you and you laugh and swim away from him. He tries to chase after you, but you’re graceful and quick like a mermaid. Somehow, you always manage to glide away from him just when his fingers are about to brush your skin.

“You’ll have to be sneakier than that.” You roll on your back to playfully kick water in Astarion’s direction. He strikes while you’re gloating- grabbing hold of your ankle and sharply dragging you back toward him. 

“Gross,” you complain when you resurface, spluttering and spitting water out of your mouth. “I hate the taste of saltwater.”

And Astarion just stares at you- at how the water drips down your skin and your wet hair sticks flat against your head and the way your nose scrunches up in disgust as you try to get rid of the taste of saltwater in your mouth. 

“What?” You ask when you turn and catch him staring at you. “Is there something in my hair?”

“This view is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen and still, I can’t pull my eyes away from you. Still, it is you that pulls the breath from the lungs and renders me speechless. Still, you are the siren that has bewitched me with her song.”

That beautiful soft smile returns to your face and you reach out, winding your arms around his neck and leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. 

Astarion lets out a content hum and smiles because he can taste it. He can actually taste the salt and seawater as your lips slide against his.

It’s a sweet, slow kiss that leads to a whole series of sweet, slow kisses that gradually deepen. Astarion hopes that kissing you more, kissing you deeper will quench his thirst. It doesn't. Each kiss only serves to stoke the raging inferno deep within him, the blaze set alight by the sun in his veins. 

His hands move over the soft skin of your belly, tracing down over the curve of your ass, giving the soft flesh a little squeeze that has you mewling into his mouth. His hands continue lower, wrapping around the back of your thighs as he lifts you up, wading back in the direction of the large rocks on the shoreline. Somehow, he manages not to trip and drop you, even when you do distract him by peppering kisses along the curve of his jaw. 

Thankfully, the blanket had not blown away in the wind, and Astarion eases you down onto it, carefully resting his weight on top of you. His hair is wet and surely a mess from where your fingers have threaded through it. So much for all his careful styling earlier. 

“See,” Astarion says, kissing down your sternum, “it’s a good thing we got those pesky clothes out of the way already.”

Astarion feels your laugh reverberating in your ribs as he licks away the drops of saltwater that run along your chest. He continues sliding his tongue along your skin, relishing in the way you squirm underneath him. It has his cock aching where it presses between your bodies. 

With a slow grind of his hips, Astarion tongue traces a wet line along the underside of your breast, moving upward to gently suck one of your hard nipples into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it. 

You let out a happy sigh and Astarion’s feels your whole body relax beneath him.

“You really do have the most perfect bosom I’ve ever seen,” Astarion says, when he releases your nipple from his mouth with a lewd pop. One of his hands traces upward along your ribs to cup and knead at the flesh of your other breast. 

His mouth follows soon after, sucking at the skin of your chest while his fingers circle and tweak your nipples. His efforts to mark you are in vain, he knows, but he’s at least momentarily rewarded when he pulls away and gets to watch the angry, red mark fade from your skin. 

When Astarion finally looks up from his handiwork, you’re watching him with hooded eyes, pupils blown so wide that your red eyes nearly look black. Astarion presses up, catching your mouth in a kiss and sliding his tongue against the seam of your lips. You open eagerly for him and his tongue slides into the wet cavern of your mouth. 

Your fingertips ghost along Astarion’s arms, tracing lines over the muscles and inching their way upward until Astarion feels them slip over his shoulders, moving gently along the raised skin of the scar on his back. 

“Is that okay?” you murmur, pulling away from the kiss.

“Yes,” he answers, “but I don’t know why you’d ever want to touch it. That thing is hideous.”

Astarion would let you touch him anywhere, would let your soft fingertips glide and press upon any part of him that you wished. But why did you always insist upon finding all the ugly, hidden parts of him and holding them up to the light? Why did you always insist on loving the pieces that Astarion himself hated?

“No, not hideous. It’s a part of you and nothing about you could ever be described as hideous.” Your fingertips continue stroking and soothing along the circular pattern. “And you deserve to have some new memories associated with your scar. So now, when you feel its weight upon your back, you will not think of the night you received it. You will think instead of the day that the woman you love gave you the sun.”

“You gave me the sun long ago,” Astarion confesses, the pad of his own thumb moving to touch your soft lips. “When you smile… It feels like sunshine against my skin.”

You smile and it puts the sun to shame. 

“I was so scared to love you at first,” Astarion says softly. He hardly knows what sentiment he is trying to convey other than his earth-shattering love for you, but the words are burning at his throat, forcing their way out before he can think. “I was so scared that you would make me weak and powerless. I know better now. In truth, you are the one who encourages me to be strong. You are the one who showed me the light after so long being trapped in the darkness.”

“If I am your sun, then you are my moon,” you say. “There is not one without the other. All my beauty, all my love, reflects and shines off you. You are the stars themselves, Astarion, shining and shimmering against the blackness of night. Always recognizable, always able to guide me home.”

He dips down to press a slow kiss to your lips so you do not keep saying beautiful words that make him want to cry. 

Astarion gently sweeps the wisps of your drying hair away from your face.

“For once,” he pleads, “let me caress you with the sun, beloved wife, so you might know how it feels to be loved by you.”

“Then take me, husband.” You twine your fingers into Astarion’s hair and press his forehead against yours. “Take all of me. With all that I have and all that I am, I am yours.” 

Astarion lets his hand trail down your stomach in swirling, looping patterns, relishing in the way your skin tightens in anticipation beneath his fingertips. Today, he doesn't feel the need to rush. Today, he will enjoy every little thing that life has to offer him- sunlight and food and pleasure.

Astarion traces swooping cursive along your skin. ‘I love you’ and ‘little flower’ and ‘wife,’ over and over and over again. Surely, you are not following the words he has written, but Astarion believes that the meaning has bled through his fingers and landed straight in your heart.

When he finally grows too impatient, Astarion’s fingers lower between your legs to stroke along the soft heat of your cunt. You let out a shuddering breath, closing your eyes as you relax into his touch.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

Astarion will never grow used to this, to how your cunt begs for his every touch.

He knew he was able to inspire lust in people. He was a handsome man with a talented, silver tongue- lust was a given. But that had all been an act, a performance. None of them ever saw anything deeper. And here you were, dripping over his hand after having just touched his scars, the part of himself that Astarion hates the most. That someone would love all of him- hideous, ugly parts and all- was a fact that Astarion still finds unbelievable.

“Course I’m wet, we were just in the water,” you tease him, raising your leg to poke his ribs with your toes.

“I’ll leave if you’re going to be difficult.” Astarion pulls his hand away from you and sits up.

“No,” you whine, sitting up yourself so that your arms can lock around his neck and drag him back down on top of you.

“All bark and no bite, aren’t you, my cheeky little pup,” Astarion purrs.  

You pout for just a moment before you use the arms you have laced around Astarion’s neck as leverage to pull him down into a kiss, gently tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. One of your fangs scratches lightly against his skin.

“Some bite,” you murmur into his mouth, lips still grazing his.

“You keep stealing all my best lines,” Astarion nudges your nose with his own and he feels your lips pull up into a proud smile. 

“Still sounds better when you say it,” you sigh and Astarion’s cock throbs at your praise. He’s half out of his mind with how badly he needs to be buried inside you. 

“Your voice goes all low and husky,” you continue, dragging Astarion’s hand back down to your cunt. “You should feel what it does to me.”

You encourage Astarion to push a finger inside you as you wrap your hand around his hard length, swiping your thumb over the tip and sending white-hot pleasure radiating up his spine.

“Gods, pet, you’re going to be the death of me,” Astarion rasps and sure enough, he feels your cunt clench around his finger. He drags it out before pushing it back in and you arch into his touch, drawing his finger in deeper, as your hand languidly pumps up and down Astarion’s cock.

“That’s all for you, my star. Always for you.” You speak, quiet and breathless, and Astarion can hardly hear you over the obscene squelching of his finger sinking into you. He adds another and curls them and you shiver with delight beneath him.

Astarion groans, forehead pressed tightly against yours as you breathe into each other. With time, the two of you find a rhythm in your dance, your hand begins to move in time with Astarion’s fingers.

And when Astarion finally eases his cock into you, he is gentle and deliberate. He takes a moment to just stay fully seated inside you, letting the silken heat of your cunt hug him so, so tightly. He grinds his hips against yours slowly, barely pulling out before he’s thrusting back in, enraptured in the way your walls pulse and flutter around him. 

“Gods, look at you,” he says, punctuated by a roll of his hips. 

It feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. And perhaps, he is. Even candlelight and superior vampiric senses did not allow for the fine level of details of daylight. There’s so much to look at- the curve of your eyelashes, the faint lines around your eyes, the tiny scar right by your hairline.  

“You’re so beautiful,” Astarion says with awe. “You’re always so beautiful, but like this…” Another roll of his hips. “Spread out underneath me with your lips swollen from my kisses. The way your hair fans out.” He catches a piece of your damp hair between his fingers. “The way you look up at me with such love and adoration that I fear my heart may somehow return to life.”

“Astarion.”

His name falls from your lips with the reverence of a prayer.

“You say my name so beautifully, little flower. Please, say it again.”

“Astarion,” you whisper, over and over and over, until your tongue is tripping over the syllables and the only sounds that escape your mouth are strangled gasps. 

There is no sense of urgency, no rushing. Time melts away. There is only you and Astarion and the warmth of the sun drying your wet skin and the gentle sea breeze blowing salty air around you. 

“Do you like that?” Astarion asks, when a particularly deep thrust has your nails digging into his skin.

You nod vehemently.

“Use your words,” Astarion urges, repeating the same motion. The knowledge that he’s making you feel as good as he does right now somehow makes him impossibly harder. It has his cock twitching within you. 

“Star…” you pant. “S-so good.”

And Astarion just feels so warm and good and safe. 

There’s this wave of something that feels like relief washing over him as he realizes that the rest of his immortal life is going to be filled with this feeling. There will be no more darkness and agony. There will be no more fear of punishment or stewing in his hatred for Cazador. 

The muscles in your cunt tighten around Astarion, beckoning him closer, welcoming him deeper. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

It’s everything Astarion has ever wanted. A person who knows him, knows the real him- secretly romantic and sappy and a little bit wicked and vindictive, deep down. He had found someone who challenges him, who always has a quip to return to his jokes, who sees his flaws and encourages him to do better. 

Astarion continues thrusting into you, deep and hard, and the gasping whimpers you make are so lovely and your nails feel so wonderful where they lightly scratch his scalp and Astarion can’t fight back the tears any longer. He buries his face into your neck and closes his eyes, letting the tears dampen your skin as he loses himself in you.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” you reassure Astarion, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his jaw.

His whole body trembles as he comes.

There’s nothing but bliss and you as Astarion fucks into you, long after his orgasm has washed over him and left his cock so sensitive that it’s nearly painful. The whole time, you just keep running your fingers through Astarion’s hair, whispering soft, soothing praises as he continues to weep into your shoulder. 

“You didn’t come,” Astarion eventually sniffles, pressing a long kiss to the hollow of your throat in apology.

“S’okay,” you reassure, running your fingers along his face, chasing away any remaining wetness. “Felt good anyway. You always make me feel good. But let today be about you, for once. Just you.”

And Astarion knows you mean this- that his pleasure is just as enjoyable as your own. He knows this because he thinks the same. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

“You don’t need to,” you laugh softly. “We have an eternity together, little star. We don’t need to keep score.”

“If we did, I’d be winning,” Astarion teases and he feels your thumb trace along the line by his mouth again when his lips tilt up in a grin.

“Only because you normally insist on making me come at least once before you even dream of fucking me,” you say. “But it’s fine. Losing that competition still feels like winning to me.”

Astarion thinks that maybe it’s not fine, that maybe you’re a bit more competitive than you’re letting on. He laughs and finally pulls out of you, rolling on his back to face toward the sky again. The sun sits high in the middle of the sky. The two of you must have been out here for hours now. 

Astarion stretches out, muscles all loose and relaxed. His eyes flutter shut and his breath calms to a slow, rhythmic pattern. And with the bright, warm air surrounding him and you curled up next to him, watching over him, Astarion lets himself drift off to sleep.

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

Notes:

As usual, this part started at 5k words and I just KEPT adding more words until it was yet another behemoth of a chapter. And deep down, this chapter was sponsored by my personal agenda to make Astarion feel so happy and safe that he cries. And I'm not gonna lie to you all, next week is just like… 90% smut (as any good epilogue should be).

Huge thank you to my beta-writer, AliensNSuch on ao3. Somehow, she manages to make what I am trying to say sound even better.

And as always, thank you to everyone who has read this far! I'll save my final sappy farewell and thank you's for the epilogue next week, but just know that all your love has meant the world to me. This is the first fic I've ever actually been brave enough to post and what a wonderful experience it has been!

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary @divineknightmare @fandomarchiveilyd

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

[iovetecchou]

Oblivious.

Part 4.

Oblivious Masterlist!

Pairings… Jouno Saigiku x Reader and Tecchou Suehiro x Reader

Contains… fluff. (between reader and Tecchou mostly) smut. fingering, oral sex (f), virgin!reader, aphrodisiacs (reader), hence there being- dubious consent (?), wet & messy, premature ejaculation, light teasing, begging, mild dirty talk, possessive!jouno, also gentle!jouno… one use of “good girl”

AFAB Reader she/they pronouns used.

3,975 words.

trust me, the aphrodisiac part will make sense! i hope you all enjoy where this story is going, leave any comments or suggestions if you’d like too! (:

You and Tecchou ended up falling asleep during the movie last night. Your head against his shoulder, and his resting on top of your own. Tecchou stirred awake around three in the morning, blinking the tiredness from his eyes before looking over to you at his side. You were still resting peacefully, breathing softly and leaving a small puddle of drool against his collarbone. It seeped through the fabric of his shirt slightly. Adorable. Tecchou thought to himself. You were so endearing to him, as he looked at you, warmth bloomed throughout his chest. Ah, he wanted you all for himself. To protect you from harm's way and make you the happiest person alive.

Tecchou gathered his mushy thoughts before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss atop your forehead. He got up slowly making sure not to wake you in the process before scooping you up into his arms bridal style. Slowly tip-toeing to your bedroom. He almost tripped on the way there because he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking. Only taking in your peaceful expression as you slept. Tecchou tucked you in before leaving one last chaste kiss on your cheek. Making sure to leave you a note before taking his leave.

The next morning you woke up feeling… confused. Wait. So it was just a dream after all… you groaned. Bringing your hand up over your face, shaking your head back in forth in disbelief. God your imagination was playing dirty tricks on you. Having you believe Tecchou reciprocated your feelings and well… jerked off in your bathroom to the thought of you. Yeah, too good to be true. You thought, before stepping out of bed. Heading right to the kitchen for some coffee. It was a peaceful Saturday morning, the sun glimmering through your living room windows. Illuminating a warm natural light.

As you shuffle over to your countertop, you notice a piece of paper attached to your fridge, weird. You thought, reaching out for the note and scanning over it quickly. Your blood ran cold in your veins. It was real. Everything you assumed your mind made up really happened last night. The note was from Tecchou, it read:

“Sorry for sneaking out. I didn’t want to wake you. Try to get lots of rest this weekend, I’ll see you on Monday y/n.”

—Tecchou :)

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. The little smiley face- ugh! Your heart couldn’t take how adorable he was. You hoped this weekend flew by so you could see him again. And sure enough, it did.

You wanted to pack Tecchou a lunch today, waking up at 4:30 in the morning just to make sure it was perfect. It was made with all of his favorite food combinations, shichimi sauce and strawberries, white rice and sugar, and sauce for noodles on yokan. Ah, shit, it was already 5:45, you needed to be at work by six. You hurriedly packed your lunch and Tecchou's, along with other important things you needed for work, laced up your boots, and headed out.

The second you arrived, you were met with Jouno, clipboard in hand, and steadily approaching where you stood. “Good morning Jouno! Have you seen Tecchou? I have something id like to give him!”

Jouno tried to hide his grimace with the clipboard. Fuck, this is the moment he was dreading. Hearing your heartbeat skip when you said Tecchou’s name. He assumed you two fucked all weekend and were now a happy couple. Revolting. “He’s not here Y/n. Fukuchi stole him earlier his morning for some confidential mission. But you and I have to leave immediately. We're on a mission together, I'll fill you in on the way over.” Jouno stealthily wrapped his arm around your shoulders, towering next to your frame before leading you right back out the doors of HQ and into a cab that was waiting out front for you both.

Apparently, there was a masked assailant terrorizing a hotel stationed right outside Yokohama. He was an ability user, able to concentrate his ability into this poison he used to coat his dagger with. He would kidnap his victims and slice them with said blade, causing severe and instant effects. What symptoms you might ask? Well, his poison acted as an aphrodisiac but with a twist. If the victim didn’t copulate within the first fifteen minutes of the poison coursing through their veins, they would die. Essentially, there had to be some from of release, that was the only antidote. Oh yeah, and this wasn’t an ordinary hotel. It was a love hotel. Great, this mission was going to be a pain in the ass for both you and your partner Jouno.

As you arrived at the scene, stepping foot inside the hotel, Jouno scoffed loudly and covered his nose quite dramatically if you must add. “Christ, It fucking reeks of sweat and sex in here. I might actually vomit.” You sympathetically patted his back, making him jolt up straight. You giggled softly before saying, “Don’t worry Jouno! I have a barf bag in my backpack if you need it. I always carry it around for you in case of missions like this, that affect your senses! Just let me know when it gets unbearable for you, kay Jouno?” You smiled to yourself, knowing he wouldn't be able to see it anyways, you kept your eyes forward, scanning for any suspicious activity. Fuck, you’re so kind. It made his head spin. Did you really keep it in your bag for him? Ah, you’ll surely be the death of him, your light giggles like music to his ears. And your small hand that came in contact with his back? Pure bliss. He could still feel the warmth of your palm, slowly subsiding with each passing second. It made him feel all swirly inside.

“Let's just get this mission over with. I'm already irritated and we only just got here. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.” He dramatically sighed once more before continuing. “They always assign me to these bullshit missions. Come now Y/n, let's scope the surrounding area. Just don’t do anything to stand out.” You nod before thinking it might be best if you just respond with words, for Jouno’s sake. “Got it, maybe we should start in the common room. From your report, it seems as though most of the attacks start there.” He lets out a sound of agreement before making a beeline for the common room, you following behind him closely. Damn, the putrid aroma is dulling his sense of smell. How would he ever be able to sniff out the poison like this?

“Y/n, my sense of smell is compromised at the moment. Stay on your toes, the perpetrator must be close by.” You give him a small ‘okay’ before scanning the room carefully. If Jouno was your ears, then you had to be his eyes. You always took your missions very seriously, and this one gave you a bad feeling right away. Something was off. As you both continued observing the area, you suddenly felt something sharp graze the back of your neck. Wincing at the pain, you quickly brought a hand up to nurse your wound before turning around. Jouno heard your pained sound. He was next to you in an instant, hearing the blood trickle down your neck. “Y/n are you alright? What happen—“ Jouno was cut off by an irritatingly loud laugh, whipping his head in the direction of the intrusive sound. “Jouno, it’s him the masked man. I didn’t feel him come up behind me, I’m sorry for being so careless….” you said, quietly and clearly, feeling guilty for compromising this mission so quickly.

“We don’t have time for this right now y/n. I'm going after him, just stay here for a second. That's an order.” You grab his forearm before he can make his exit after the masked vigilante that was getting away before you spoke. “B-but Jouno, the report said if the poisoned individual didn’t… have s-sex within fifteen minutes they would die… and I’m starting to feel a little… weird. Jouno, what should I do? I… don’t want to die like t-this.” You said, shifting your gaze and squeezing your legs together tightly. The poison was in full effect. Making you heat up, and you could feel your heart pounding. Pussy throbbing in your panties as you started to drip down your thighs.

Shit. He could smell your intoxicating arousal again. Becoming nose blind to every other sent except your own. His face became flushed. That piece of intel almost slipped his mind. This mission really was bullshit. Jouno thought before saying, “Well, it's not like your boyfriend will make it over here in fifteen minutes. Tecchou is on the other side of town. He’ll never make it.” You froze in place at his words, “B-boyfriend? Y-you think Tecchou is m-my… no Jouno-you have it all wrong, we’re not d-dating…” not yet, at least. Jouno’s eyebrows raised, mouth slightly parting in confusion. What? Did you two really not fuck then…? That idiot Tecchou. He really didn’t know a good thing even when it was right in front of him. “Oh, my mistake Y/n…” he paused, bringing his hand up, resting it on his chin trying to come up with a solution to this fucked up predicament. Before it clicked.

“Y/n follow me, quickly. We don’t have much time.” He clasped your hand in his. Exiting the common room and dragging you up the hotel steps. He slipped you both into a vacant room, after stealthily taking the housekeeper's master key card. Making quick work of swiping the card through the slot, putting the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the doorknob before closing it swiftly. You were stumbling all around the room. Before finding the bed, and sitting on the edge of it. Clenching and unclenching your thighs. Looking for some kind of friction or relief. The poison was working fast, you had no idea how many minutes it had been since you were cut, the blood had already dried up on your neck and you feared you would really die like this. “J-jouno, I feel weird… it's so hot in here… Jouno, are you hot too?” Oh, he was hot alright. But not because of the fucking stale hotel room air. He was burning up inside reeling from this whole situation. Mission failed obviously, and you were poisoned with an aphrodisiac giving you about twelve more minutes before you would be dead. Unless you—.

Oh,

Oh.

This was too good actually. Jouno tried to hide his signature sadistic grin. So, you and Tecchou weren’t dating, Which lead him to believe you didn’t fuck, and now… both you and him were alone in a love hotel, with an aphrodisiac coursing through your veins. And the antidote? Well, you know where this goes next.

“It's okay Y/n, let me help you. We need to get rid of the poison. Immediately.” Jouno said calmly, a little too relaxed for this whole situation you would have noted if your mind wasn’t displaced by sexual desire and the need for release. “Please Jouno, please help me. I n-need to cum, I'm throbbing s-so much down there. It hurts Jouno!” Fuck he was so hard already. your pleas for him were driving him mad. This was the best case scenario. For Jouno. His chance to win you over and make you his. Oh, he’s going to make you forget all about Tecchou.

Jouno moved so he was standing in between your thighs. You were still seated on the foot of the bed, legs dangling off the edge. Jouno bit the tips of his gloved fingers, pulling them off his digits one by one, and fuck, did you just- bite your lip and whine at the sight of him doing so? Oh my god, what the hell is happening- you never thought of Jouno in this way before. Maybe it was the poison, you reasoned. You were snapped out of your thoughts by the feeling of Jouno's bare hands rubbing up and down the length of your thighs. Dipping his fingers under the hem of your skirt each time he did. You moaned at the skin on skin contact, it wasn’t enough. You needed more, but there was just one small problem.

“J-jouno wait- im- I’ve never- Jouno, I’m a v-virgin!”

You could have sworn you saw his eyes open for a split second. Getting a glimpse of his glassed over eyes before they closed once more. His cock throbbed in his pants at your confession, the need to corrupt you taking over every one of his thoughts before your words brought him back to reality.

“J-jouno I don’t want my first time to be like t-this… I’ve been f-fingered before, b-but that's about as far as I’ve gone sexually on myself w-with another person… is there any way that’ll do? The report s-said a release was the antidote… c-can we try?” Oh, you’re so precious. He would do anything you asked of him, silly y/n. Jouno thought. He smiled at you before saying, “Of course my dear Y/N. I’ll go as far as you’d like.” You nodded, not present enough to give a worded response to him.

Eight minutes left.

God, he wanted to savor this moment but that wasn’t possible right now. It was quite literally life and death.

Jouno gently pushed you backward, laying you flat against the bed before letting his hands travel up your thighs once more, hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before pulling them down your legs. Bundling the article of clothing in his hand and stuffing them in his back pocket for a later date. He flipped the hem of your skirt up, exposing your bare cunt. You were honestly relieved Jouno wasn’t able to see you like this. Feeling ashamed of the state you were in. You whined as Jouno pulled your thighs apart. Exposing you even further before letting his lithe fingers travel down to your pussy. His breath hitched as he dragged his index and pointer finger up the length of your drooling cunt. You let out a breathy whine at the contact as well. Making Jouno's dick twitch in his pants.

You were so warm, and wet. He never imagined he would be able to feel you like this. After Friday night, all his hopes for you to be his went out the window. But now, things were different. He was granted this opportunity, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste the way stupid Tecchou did. his loss. Jouno's gain. Jouno experimentally prodded at your clit. Giving slow, featherlight circles against the throbbing bud with his thumb. You lost it. Hips lifting high off the bed as you let out a high pitched moan, fuck he was going to lose all his remaining sanity if you kept it up like this. “Now, now y/n. you must behave. That is unless you want me to punish you, sweetheart.” There was no hiding his wide smirk at this point, he was too lost in this moment with you to care anyways. You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes. You didn’t want to be teased right now. You needed to cum, and fast. More. You needed more.

“P-please Jouno, I'll be a good girl I promise! J-just put your fingers in me already! Please I can’t take any teasing right now, Saigiku.”

You called him by his first name.

And it sounded so fucking delicious rolling off your tongue in such an obscene manner. Fuck he nearly made a mess in his pants at your words. But who was he to deny his precious y/n when they asked so nicely for release? And you only have five minutes left so he really needed to hurry this along, much to his displeasure.

But if you came out of this alive, he’s sure you would both have more opportunities to explore one another sexually. Maybe you would even grant him the privilege of taking your virginity.

God, he hoped for that.

Wasting no more time, he dipped his index finger into you slowly, not wanting to hurt you in any way. And the sultry moan that escaped your lips had a bead of sweat rolling down his face. Fuck. He brought his other hand up to hold your pelvis down so you wouldn’t squirm. Thumbing over your clit with the same hand in the meantime. Oh, fuck it felt so good. You hadn’t been fingered like this in… you can’t even remember how long but, it felt extraordinary. You tried to keep your hips flat against the bed, gently rocking forward into Jouno's hand, asking for more friction like this. He picked up on your cue, adding his ring finger alongside his other one before pumping them in and out of you, relentlessly.

Your tears were spilling down your cheeks now as you whimpered and whined, letting small praises of ‘fuck so good’ and ‘just like that’ slip past your lips, making Jouno fall on his knees in front of you. His face is now directly at your pussy, his breath hitting your swollen bud. Making you jolt forward and squeeze around his digits even tighter than you already were. Oh, he liked that. Too much. He wanted to make you do that again. So, he brought his face closer to your dripping cunt letting his tongue experimentally kitten lick your clit. At this, you jolted up completely. Looking at the scene in front of you for the first time since Jouno pushed you down against the mattress. The sight alone had you clenching around his digits once more.

His hat was on the floor next to him, it must have slipped off his head at some point. His face was flushed, seeing Jouno down on his knees… did something to you. He was always the one to bring others down like this. At his mercy. But to see him knocked down to this level, for you? Ah, it made something swirl inside your chest. You could see his erection poking at the front of his trousers, leaving a slight wet spot. Fuck he was getting off to this? Why did you find that to be so hot? It must have been the poison, you reasoned before moving your gaze upwards taking in the expression on his face once more. Jouno’s cheeks were flushed and lips were parted as he held his face in front of your pussy. He paused his actions when he felt you jolt forward. Cursing himself for going too far. You had said only fingering. Shit, he fucked up— he thought. Before your words erased all those doubts from his head in an instant. “Saigiku, do that again. Please, please do that again. I'm so close baby don’t stop!”

Baby?

The endearing pet name made his brain short circut. Cock twitching and leaking more pre in his underwear, his thighs squeezing together beneath you for some sort of friction. Feeling his desires bubble up further.

Three minutes.

Wasting no more precious time, Jouno began lapping at your bud at a relentless pace. Flicking your clit, gently grazing it with his teeth like a man starved. You were a sobbing mess, hiccuping as the tears continued streaming down your cheeks. His fingers were pumping in and out of you with so much vigor too, curling upwards and pushing in deep. Rubbing against your sweet spot just right. You moaned, hand coming down to fist his locks, pulling him deeper into your cunt. And he fucking loves it. His senses were overloaded by you, your smell, your taste, your touch. Fuck he was about to cum in his pants, but he could genuinely care less at this point. Too lost in the intimacy he had with you right now.

Two minutes.

“Harder! Faster baby I'm gonna cum, ah Saigiku don’t fucking stop!” You shouted, not caring if the other patrons could hear you. It was a love hotel anyways so, tough. He obliged, curling and uncurling his fingers inside of you, pressing so nicely into that spongy spot inside of you as his fingers moved at an ungodly pace. Tounge slobbering all over your clit. He’s so drunk off of your pussy. Normally, any sort of mess or dirty feeling would stress him the fuck out. But when it came to you? Those ideals went right out the window. He would quite literally kill for you.

One minute.

He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, hard. That's all it took for you to fumble over the edge, screaming his name as you gushed all over his fingers. “Saigiku! m’cumming ah—!” He continued to thrust his fingers inside of you, lips pulling away from your clit so he can move his face down to your hole. You’re squirting all over his fingers, and he’s lapping up everything he can catch with his tongue. Fuck. He whines, biting his lip hard now. As to not let any other noises slip past. Dick twitching as he came in his underwear. Still throbbing from the aftershocks of pleasure. Jouno’s fingers slowed down, before taking his sweet time pulling his lithe digits out of your hole. Already missing the feeling of you squeezing him so tightly. Wondering what your hot wet walls would feel like wrapped around his cock instead.

Jouno stood up before climbing on top of the bed, leaning over you. You’re watching him intently. His face is dangerously close. Is he about to kiss you? Your heart skips a beat and Jouno can’t believe it. He’s only ever heard your body react that way for Tecchou. He pulled back slightly a little shocked by his secret discovery, before smiling down at you. No, not his award winning grin, a soft gentle smile. A genuine one. He leans back down to your face, lips ghosting over your own, feeling his breath fan over you. You can smell yourself on his lips. Closing your eyes, expecting to feel them on yours but it never comes. Instead, you feel something warm and wet...? against your cheek. Your eyes flash open to see Jouno, licking away your tears. He groaned at the salty taste. Savoring the mix of your tears and arousal on his taste buds. Fuck why was that so hot. Wait— the aphrodisiac wore off right? The… ‘antidote’ worked did it not? I mean, you’re still alive. And your fifteen minutes were way past due. So why… why did you still feel this way towards Jouno? Maybe there were some lingering effects, you reasoned. I mean there wasn’t enough research on it, right…?

Jouno crawls off from on top of you. Planting his feet back on the floor before moving his hands to flip the hem of your skirt back down. Smoothing it into place before excusing himself to the bathroom without another word. You just sat there dazed and quite frankly still reeling from the events that had transpired… also, where were your panties…?Whatever, you always come prepared. I’m sure I tossed a spare in my backpack. As you get up to go check, you hear the bathroom door click open. Jouno looks like his normal self again, aside from the obvious wet spot on the front of his trousers. He came from fingering you and eating you out? Fuck that's so sexy— y/n, stop! Why are you thinking this way…?! You love Tecchou and Tecchou alone. You always have, so why now? Why were you beginning to see Jouno in a different light? Ah, your head was still spinning from all the excitement. You probably just needed a nap and a drink.

“Go back to headquarters y/n. I’m going to track that fucker down and torture him. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, I’ll be back before sundown…” He said. Making quick, long strides over to where you were standing. Coming face to face with you before leaning down and whispering in your ear. “Oh, and y/n, might I say, you sound so precious when you cum… I didn’t take you for a squirter. I’m hoping I’ll get to hear your beautiful voice screaming my name in the near future, under better circumstances.” With that, Jouno made a complete 180 before taking his leave. Leaving you in this crummy hotel room alone with your thoughts. Your face was so red at his words. No one has ever been so bold with you like that and it made your belly swirl with warmth once more, but this time under no effect of an aphrodisiac, no this felt like your usual arousal.

Shit.

i really like how this chapter came out! i know it’s kind of plot heavy in the beginning but i hope the smutty scene made up for it!

taglist: @coco-goat-milk @madelynwolff @tecchoufr @saharei

[trashcanlore]

Kabbalah in the Worldbuilding of Genshin Impact; Part 1: The Tree of Life, the Universe, and Everything

Edited for clarity, 12/6/23

Written by Schwan (@abyssalschwan on twitter) and Sabre (trashcanlore, @paimoff on twitter)

During the Sumeru Archon Quests, we learned that the Irminsul is a (real! (ish)) tree that grows upside down, seemingly underground, and that the roots of the tree are the Ley Lines, which extend throughout Teyvat and the Abyss. Irminsul stores all knowledge and memories in the world, and the Ley Lines are the mechanism by which the tree acquires this information. Ley Lines move elemental energy through Teyvat, and this energy acts as both a storage medium for information but also a resource that can be utilized for combat, alchemy, an energy source (Azosite), etc. 

The origin of the name Irminsul (unique to the Western localizations) in combination with the many names from Norse mythology associated with Khaenri'ah, suggest that the inspiration for Irminsul is Yggdrasil, the world tree and central axis of the cosmos in Norse mythology. Here we propose an additional inspiration for Irminsul and the associated worldbuilding and elemental system of Teyvat: The Kabbalistic Tree of Life. In this model, Teyvat’s elemental energy is comparable to the creative energy described by Kabbalah as the foundation for the creation of reality and the spiritual world. Specific attributes of elemental energy can be channeled by unique individuals in Teyvat and these attributes manifest as distinct elements, which can be directly compared to the 10 sefirot, or emanations, described in Kabbalistic literature.

What is Kabbalah?

Kabbalah (lit. received, tradition) is a school of thought originating in Jewish mysticism. In general, Kabbalah focuses on the relationship between the infinite (God) and the finite universe and how it was created. The goal of studying this mysticism can vary depending on the school of thought and their motivations. Many of the esoteric and religious influences on Genshin lore and worldbuilding were influenced by Kabbalah, or vice versa. These include Gnosticism, Hermeticism, alchemy, Freemasonry, the occultist branches of Theosophy and Thelema (Golden Dawn), astrology, symbolic interpretation of the tarot (also specific to the Golden Dawn) and more [2]. In short, Kabbalah is everywhere. Additionally, its concepts are used as symbolism in several pieces of media that directly or indirectly inspired Genshin and other games in the Hoyoverse.

If you have frequented Genshin lore topics, you might have heard that one of the main sources of inspiration for its worldbuilding is Gnosticism. The problem is, Gnosticism is a bit vague or contradictory when it comes to how the world was created and how the whole existence thing works. At this current moment in the storyline of Genshin, we have very little information on the very beginning of existence in Teyvat. This information seems to be a crucial part of the “truth of the world” and appears to be purposefully hidden by powerful factions like Celestia. This entire theory was born out of trying to make sense of what little we know about the creation of Teyvat and comparing it to esoteric commentaries on the well known creation myth of the Torah (Old Testament). The “Biblical world structure” interpretation of Teyvat has been around since the early days of Genshin lore and with good reason; there are frequent mentions of the firmament, as well as the name Teyvat sounding very similar to the Biblical Hebrew word for ‘ark’ (although the grammar is a bit mangled). There are also several references to stories from the Bible in in-game texts, including Before Sun and Moon.  

Kabbalah literature spends a lot of time trying to understand and describe the process of how the world was created and the underlying principles of reality, as well as how spiritual practice can change that reality (either metaphorically or literally). Kabbalah intends to describe the “true nature of God,” which is equal to the entirety of existence, as something very vast and completely impossible to grasp. This incomprehensible infinity emits an “limitless light” that is the origin of all creation. Elemental energy (the ubiquitous source of everything in Teyvat) is often found compared to light, something we’ll discuss in more detail later. The “limitless light” of Kabbalah is way too powerful for existence to bear, much like how elemental energy is to normal, non-Vision having humans. That’s why this light needed to be “filtered” down. This happens through the process of creation, which passes the light through the spiritual attributes that form the Tree of Life, which is like a sort of diagram for how the universe came into being [3].

The Tree of Life

The tree of life and its 10+ nodes, known as sefirot, is one of the most well-known concepts from Kabbalah to make its way into popular culture. As mentioned previously, the tree has been used as rule-of-cool symbolism in anime such as Neon Genesis Evangelion and Fullmetal Alchemist, two pieces of media that likely are significant influences on Genshin (If you doubt that HYV loves NGE, play some Honkai). The sefirot are also depicted on the floor of the Schicksal HQ map in Honkai Impact 3rd, for some reason.

The sefirot and their organization and interactions with each other can be found depicted in many ways, such as the tree format that is the most popular, or a spiraling nested scheme that is really cool, or even very stylized, like the work of Robert Fludd.

Sefirot

Sefirot comes from the root word in Hebrew meaning “to count,” but you can also find it translated as “sphere” in some texts. The term originated in a book on Jewish mysticism called the Sefer Yetzirah, or “Book of Formation/Creation.” which describes the combination of the “sefirot of nothingness” and the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet as the foundation of reality (remember the hypostasis codenames?). 

The Sefer HaBahir (lit. the book of brightness, 13th century France) introduces the idea that the sefirot are emanations of the divine. Interestingly, this book refers to the sefirot as ma’amarot (sayings), which builds on an important concept in classical Jewish philosophy – the idea that God spoke the world into existence. [We’ll get back to the Sefer Yetzirah and the role of language in creating the world in a subsequent part of this theory]. Fontaine 4.2 era edit: HELL YEAH stay tuned for more about Oceanids!!

Historically, Kabbalah might have taken this rough concept from a very different school of thought: Pythagoreans or neo-Platonists. Briefly, the connection between the Pythagoreans and the Kabbalistic sefirot is that both groups considered the world as being made of numbers. This ties back into Genshin worldbuilding because of how much Platonism is related to Gnosticism. Something else to keep in mind is that Pythagoreans (who had a cool history that connected Egypt and Greece to the magic of ✨math✨ but also hey Genshin lore hello Deshret) were known to use lyres as their instrument of choice while making mathematical studies of music. More sus Venti lore for the collection? This is also interesting to consider in the context of Nahida, who is deeply connected to the Irminsul, and has animations that are reminiscent of computers.

Later in the 13th century, the Kabbalist Isaac the Blind would 'canonize' the list of sefirot (there’s still some variation to this day) and organize them into a sequence that would become the basis for the famous Tree of Life structure. His writings described the sefirot as attributes of the divine and their role in the creation of the world. In his model, the sefirot originated from lights that emerged from a primordial soup of potential, and these sefirot/lights would then ‘flow’ and emanate into each other. His student, Azriel of Gerona, expanded on this with a neo-Platonic lens and introduced the concept of the Ein Sof, the infinite nothingness that cannot be comprehended and is the origin of everything. In this model, being flows from an infinite resource of potential, which the divine can utilize through the framework of the sefirot, eventually creating the world [4]. In simple terms, the Ein Sof, which contains everything, emits a primordial light that then differentiates into the sefirot. In our Genshin analogy, this primordial light would be like extremely pure elemental energy that differentiates into elements, like light passing through a prism.

Moses Cordovero, an important figure in the development of Kabbalah, described the process of the sefirot differentiating with the analogy of light shining through a stained glass window: 

Imagine a ray of sunlight shining through a stained-glass window of ten different colors. The sunlight possesses no color at all but appears to change hue as it passes through the window. The light has not essentially changed though it seems so to the viewer. Just so with the sephirot. The light that clothes itself in the vessels of the sephirot is the essence, like the ray of sunlight. That essence does not change color at all, neither judgment nor compassion, neither right nor left. Yet by emanating through the sephirot -- the variegated stained glass -- judgment or compassion prevails. (Pardes Rimmonim by Moses Cordovero, translated in Essential Kabbalah by Daniel Matt)

Cordovero considered the sefirot to be completely independent of each other, but the later Lurianic school of Kabbalah (we’ll get into them more in later parts) considered the sefirot to be constantly dynamically interacting with each other and also assigned them personas. 

Achievement grinders amongst us may recall the descriptions of the namecards you get upon completing the Elemental Specialist achievement series:

Achievement: Colors of the Rainbow: Light can refract into countless colors, but people stop at seven because they're too lazy to count. Perhaps the elements are like that, too. Achievement: Seven Lights: Anyone can play a tune that belongs just to them, and like the dew under grass, can reflect the seven lights of heaven. 

Another example of the elements being compared to light is the Latin text found on the magic circles on the door of Mona’s future house in Mondstadt and generated by the hypostases during their missile attacks. The text reads:

Ex culmine lucis in magno elementorum, which translates to "From the peak of light, to greatness of the elements."

It’s interesting to see this text appearing in association with the hypostases since they are described as “life forms which have completely abandoned their former appearance and biological structure, making them able to reach the highest level of elemental purity. They are ultra-compact structures with a high mass, and are the highest forms of elemental structures.” The hypostasis code names are also all Hebrew letters, as mentioned earlier.

Mona’s astrolabe during the Unreconciled Stars event features a similar text:

Ex culmine locis in magno elementorum; Lux se effundat in mentes dei, which translates to "From the peak of light, to the greatness of the elements; May light pour out, into the minds of god."

The Abyss Lector catalysts contain a text that mirrors these two examples:

Ex culmine lucis in mango obscuritas. Lux se effundat in mentes abysso, or “From the peak of light, to the greatness of darkness. May light pour out into the minds of the abyss.”  

The Genshin elements are also described as flowing. For example, a loading screen tip specifically describes the Ley Lines as “A mysterious network that links the whole world together, within which flow the elements.”  The Silver Twig description states: "All knowledge, memory, and experience flow through this giant tree, just like a stream flows into a river, the river joins a sea, the sea turns into clouds, and the clouds rain onto the ground — just like life itself."

Sefirot and the Genshin Elemental System

The 10 (sometimes 11) sefirot are: 

Keter: Crown (this one is even more symbolic that the rest, is described as “the most hidden of all hidden things" in the Zohar, represent things that are above the mind’s comprehension and the very beginning of the process of turning potential into reality)

Chokhmah: Wisdom

Binah: Understanding/Reasoning

(Da’at: Knowledge, as a fusion of Chokhmah and Binah)

Chesed: Loving Kindness or Mercy

Gevurah: Strength/Severity, (sometimes Din, Judgement, or Pachad, Fear)

Tiferet: Beauty/Harmony, is associated with balance of the Tree of Life

Netzach: Eternity/Endurance

Hod: Splendor/Glory

Yesod: Foundation (as in, foundation of reality)

Malkhut: Kingdom/Sovereignty

You’ve probably noticed by now that while we are claiming that the concept of the sefirot applies to the elemental system in Genshin, there are 10 sefirot and only 7 elements (for now). Fortunately for us, the Kabbalists love metaphors and categories. In addition to the sefirot representing the procedure used to ‘emanate’ and create the world, there are other methods of interpretation that further subdivide and rank the sefirot. For example, one metaphorical interpretation of the Tree of Life assigns each of the sefirot to a part of the human body.

In some Kabbalistic traditions of interpreting the tree, the 10 sefirot are divided into two categories: Intellect (Keter, Binah, Chokhmah) and Emotions (they’re actually more like character traits), which contains the remaining seven. These categories are meant to parallel how the soul is also divided into the intellect and emotional components. The first three sefirot are also referred to as the “three mothers,” because they are the source of the lower seven [5].

Having a group of seven sefirot is very convenient for comparing their traits to the elements and their ideals, but what about the role of the higher three in Genshin worldbuilding? This next section requires a bit more conjecture than some other comparisons here.

The source of all elemental energy in Teyvat, whatever that actually is, could be compared to Keter (crown), the most hidden and incomprehensible of the sefirot. (Big stretch, but think of the crowns over the Irminsul trees in domains.)

Next, we have the Ley Lines, which contain dreams and memories (these are basically the same in Teyvat, see Dream Solvent description), and these can be compared to Binah (understanding/reasoning) and Chokhmah (wisdom). During the Sumeru Archon Quest, Rukkhadevata says that dreams are the source of the wisdom she upheld as her ideal. Memories play an important role in discerning the truth of the world, as the traveler has now found themselves to be the only person to remember certain people/events, and has been told to trust their memories rather than what they can see.

Comparison of the 'Lower' Sefirot to the Genshin Elements and Their Ideals

Chesed (loving-kindness); Cryo (unknown, theorized to be love)

The Cryo Archon’s ideal is theorized to be love, as it’s the only characteristic mentioned in relation to her in the Travail trailer. Wanderer’s voiceline about her directly mentions love and describes her as being kind and benevolent, while Childe describes her as extremely gentle. These are the characteristics of Chesed, which represents the trait of completely selfless love: the all forgiving, all giving love of a god towards their creations. When it comes to the Cryo element itself, two things are worth mentioning: one is the way that all of Snezhnaya is perpetually covered in snow, as if this were the (ironic) physical expression of the Tsaritsa’s love blanketing them. The second is the promise of a world-encompassing snowstorm that will envelop everything as the Fatui advance on their war against Celestia. Although it’s hard to find one absolute constant in Vision granting stories, it’s notable that most Cryo users got their Vision at a moment when they had to selflessly be there for others (Diona, Chongyun, Mika), or after a decisive moment where they put aside their personal comfort for an ideal that would result in benefit for others (Kaeya, Eula, Layla).

Gevurah (Severity); Hydro (Justice)

Gevurah is associated with divine judgment, the kind that punishes humanity and causes world-altering catastrophes like the flood or the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. The Hydro Archon organizing her nation around a Court that attempts to judge both deities and humans parallels this. In a more positive sense, Gevurah is also related to moral judgment that allows one to tell good from evil. Likewise, Hydro in-game is often associated with purity and separation of clean and unclean matter. When it comes to Hydro Vision wielders, one common characteristic is that they all live by a personal ethical code, and their commitment to it is what granted them their Vision.

Tiferet (Beauty/Harmony); Anemo (Freedom)

Tiferet balances the other sefirot on the tree and has direct connections to almost all of them (except for Malkut). Similarly, Anemo can facilitate many elemental reactions via its Swirl reaction. In our opinion, something almost all the Anemo characters share is that their moment of receiving a Vision coincides with a moment of balance and harmony with themselves or their environment. See Jean and Kazuha’s Vision stories and the cutscene where Scaramouche/Wanderer gets his Vision. As an aside, comparing harmony to Anemo is funny because Venti is a bard and harmony is also a musical term: in music theory, harmony is the way we analyze the interactions between different voices that can be heard at the same time.  

Netzach (Eternity); Electro (Eternity)

The quality of “Eternity” in Netzach is related to victory against enemies, referring to eternity as being the most powerful combatant remaining among defeated adversaries. Likewise, in Genshin the story of the Electro Archon features many battles during the Archon War where Ei and Makoto ended up victorious. As for Electro users tend to have their Vision granted at a moment when their ambition “defeated” the obstacles of reality, as was the case with Fischl, Kuki and Lisa. Cyno’s Vision story makes sense when you compare it to the illumination of Buddha during meditation, and how this was victory over the temptation of the demon Mara.

Hod (Glory); Pyro (War)

Natlan and its Pyro Archon are possibly the most mysterious of all the regions, so we can only speculate. We know that the Pyro Archon is called the God of War, and that the Pyro Gemstone mentions battles, pilgrimages and truth. The sefira of Hod, translated as Glory or Splendor, is linked to being able to connect with God and therefore also associated with prophecy (as in the way a human can carry a message from God). In the Travail trailer, the Pyro Archon tells the traveler that “the rules of war are woven in the womb.” It's also theorized Natlan will be based on Mexica culture (where sacrifice of both enemies and self sacrifice was a way to connect with the gods) and via Iansan's name, the Caribbean diaspora version of Yoruba religion (where many rites involve the gods making themselves present in the material world). 

Yesod (Foundation); Dendro (Wisdom)

Back when we started to think about this theory during version 2.8, we decided on Yesod largely via process of elimination. One piece of our rationale was that in the Jewish tradition, each of the lower seven sefirot are used to represent a primary personality trait of seven archetypal figures in the Torah. The person related to Yesod is Joseph, who is well known for his prophetic dreams, and because of the events of the Golden Apple Archipelago, we decided that was close enough. However, the 3.x version confirmed that a) Irminsul did actually exist, b) Dendro as an element has a deep relationship with the tree, with the Dendro Archon acting as its avatar, c) the ideal of wisdom as both Dendro Archons interpreted it has a lot to do with dreams, and d) Irminsul and the Ley Lines act as the foundation for how reality is perceived in Teyvat. Yesod is also associated with biological life, as it represents the reproductive organs in the human body scheme of the sefirot.

Malkut (Kingship); Geo (Contracts)

Malkut is associated with the connection between the spiritual "above" of the Tree of Life and the concepts it contains, and the "below" of the material world, where these concepts manifest into material reality. For this reason, Malkut is associated with the earth [6]. In many Geo item descriptions, like the Geo Hypostasis drop or Albedo's elemental skill, the motif of geo trying to reach the sky is a constant. From a religious POV, the relationship between the divine and humans living in the material world has also been one of "covenants," or "pacts", in a similar way to how the Geo Archon is the God of Contracts. Furthermore, contracts are the basis to have a working state (government), and a kingdom is one of the first forms of a state. Malkut also being related to earth and everything material parallels how Geo is an element that works in making constructs. Geo Vision users are likewise involved in making or maintaining structures, like the Knights of Favonius is for Noelle, or the tradition of alchemy is to Albedo, as well as opera to Yunjin and in a way, even the Oni identity for Itto.

The Origin of Evil and Why Irminsul is Upside Down

Tighnari tells us that Irminsul is a tree that “grows downward rather than upwards,” or in other words, it’s upside down. This isn’t the only time that we’ve encountered things in Teyvat being described as upside-down or mirrored, and as it turns out, there is a similar scenario described in Kabbalah. Throughout Kabbalistic discussions on the origin of evil in the world (both material and spiritual), a central idea developed is the existence of a mirrored or inverse Tree of Life that forms the demonic realm of evil. The Zohar, a foundational work of Kabbalistic literature, spends a considerable time discussing the origins of evil - there are more than 5 creation myths for the concept of evil! Two of these myths describe the formation of an inverse Tree of Life, called the Sitra Achra (literally “other side”). This tree is constructed out of corrupted fragments of divinity that did not make it through the creation process, and therefore became evil forces [7]. Evil is typically represented as either a shard (like of broken pottery) or as a husk/shell (Qlippoth in Hebrew). Sound familiar? We actually have an enemy with this name in-game; the "shadowy husks" (the CN name for these enemies literally translates to "empty shell"). 

Unlike the very well defined 10 sefirot of the Tree of Life, Kabbalists don't agree about the identities or number of the demons that form the Sitra Achra. Some names for these demons are consistent; such as  Lilith, Samael, and Asmodeus, who make a sort of "mother, father, son" trio. As for the rest, scholars generally agree that Kabbalists blended traditions from nearby cultures depending on where they lived, leading to Arabic, Spanish and Germanic legends mixing into the Jewish tradition [8]. There's a strong possibility Hoyoverse did something similar and filled in the missing names with the names of the demons of the Ars Goetia, creating a system where the mirrored sefirot are “ruled” by demon gods, aka, the Archons. This implies that the reason Teyvat is upside down is because it is actually on the “other side.”

Neuvillette, About Us: Witness: Since you hail from beyond the stars, I invite you to be my witness as I judge this upended world…”Though we live in a world of disarray, I shall undertake to restore all that has been broken”. 

[Fun Fact: The Zohar describes the construction of the Sitra Achra as a series of knots that arrange the demonic equivalent of sefirot, called either crowns or “breaths,” into a mirrored Tree of Life configuration [7]. ]

The primary goal of the Sitra Achra is to steal and absorb the divine energy of the Tree of Life to maintain its existence, in the hopes of gaining enough energy to destabilize the system [9]. The way Genshin's Archons use their Gnoses is similar to this system. In the Flower of Paradise Lost artifact lore, the Goddess of Flowers explains to Deshret and Rukkhadevata that when the Seelie race was disgraced, they lost their connection to Heaven and their power of "enlightenment". Later, Celestia would facilitate the Archon War with the promise that each winning god would be granted a Gnosis that would give them exceptional power. Both Nahida and Venti have described the Gnoses as being a very advanced tool that concentrates elemental energy. So far, Archons have had inherent elemental powers related to their nature, but when it comes to using large amounts of elemental energy through their Gnoses, they aren't creators but channelers of it, just at a much larger scale than humans who have Visions. Edit: and yes, there is the most recent revelation about the origin of the Gnoses that is extremely relevant to this comparison, but deserves its own space to be properly expanded on.

However, this doesn't mean Teyvat is condemned. Just as the Traveler has slowly been setting the chaos of elemental energy back into order (by, for example, returning the elemental Oculi to the Statue of the Seven, among many other things), so too is there a concept in Kabbalah describing the importance of righting the wrongs of the universe so that the sefirot are stable and creation is in harmony with the divine. This is called Tikkun Olam, or the repairing of the world.

Stay tuned for part 2 where we go into wayyyyy more detail about what this means for the Traveler's journey through Teyvat! 4.2 Edit: and of course will we will be talking about the most recent Gnosis revelation, as well as the Narzissenkreuz Ordo antics :D

References:

https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/170308/jewish/What-is-Kabbalah.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermetic_Qabalah

Kabbalah - Origins of the Sefirot and Tree of Life - Isaac the Blind Saggi Nehor & Azriel of Gerona

Mystical Concepts in Chassidism - Schochct, Jacob Immanuel, chapter 2

  Mystical Concepts in Chassidism - Schochct, Jacob Immanuel pg 66-67, Tanya ch. 3

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, Likutey Moharan I, 12:1 via Wikipedia

The Origins of the Klippot / Qliphoth & Sitra Achra in the Zohar - Kabbalah on the Problem of Evil

https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/demons-and-demonology

9. Evil in Early Kabbalah - Emanations of the Left Hand Side - Origins of the Qliphoth / Klippot

[kanmom51]

JM live 1 September 2023 20:54 or 8:54 pm KST

And a little big about JK's same day live as well.

Part 2

Cr./To creators of content used in this post.

I'm going to dive right in.

Also, not everything I talk about is in the order it's brought up in the live. Just saying. These are ramblings of a blurry mind. Well, sharp and blurry. Just the right combination I say.

Let's talk about the apartment tour, lol.

JM, the master of privacy.

The man that wouldn't even show us his TV, only a cropped screenshot of it when congratulating JK on Dreamers.

The man that over the past close to 2 years since the hiatus, has done every live but one (the Billboard #1) from the company.

Yes, that man.

He not only went live from home (unplanned, which I discussed partially and will probably talk about again later on), from a room we got to see in his previous single home live, but he actually gave us a house tour. Well, somewhat of a house tour. A house ceiling tour with a couple of exceptions, lol.

This tour is divided into 2 parts.

First part was initiated by JM.

And this is important. Because it differentiates between perhaps more pre-thought of and less pre-thought of (more of a spur of the moment thing).

So, after mentioning JK (and reading out the hand comment) JM thinks of this:

JM wanting to show us his mood lamp. His planet mood light.

You know what I'm talking about, right? The one with that huge ass sun just right in your face.

He tells us how he simply came to meet us today and he has something to brag about.

Now let's wait up a minute.

He simply came to meet us on JK's birthday adorning his big ass watch starting the live at the time stamp JK was born, like time started counting from that minute and on (for him at least), and now he wants to brag about something that his friend laughed at him about (a grown man sleeping with a mood lamp), which happens to have the sun up front and centre, all huge in it's full glory, for him to fall asleep with (me continuing his story: when his bf isn't or can't be there by his side to fall asleep with).

Yep. All of that!

Ok, so JM is walking around, taking us to what is clearly his bedroom, camera at ceiling because his place is too dirty (his words) as he wasn't planning to go live from home (funny how plans change). He repeats it btw. Saying "I really didn't intend to."

Pause a second (we might be doing this more than once today). This is me just going back for a second to that same point I made in part 1. JM was not going to do the live from home. He doesn't say he wasn't going to do a live. He says he wasn't going to do a live form home.

JM takes us to his bedroom.

Who would have believed this day would come?

And if talking about not believing a day will come, perhaps me jumping the gun here, but can't hold back the excitement, what about this coming from JM?

Can't say I'm not shocked.

But then, maybe, just maybe, a little of his bf is rubbing off on him? And maybe, just maybe there is a reason for his sudden openness with us?

Anyway, back to JM's bedroom.

What's this now?

Not sure if he intended for us to see this, but we even got a peak at his bed for a millisecond... shock and awe...

*And kind of a downer for those that thought the snore in the dark was JK sleeping in bed. here is bed. Empty. Made. No JK. I guess you win some you lose some, lol.

Now this is where I got a little confused first time watching this. I actually thought that JM took the lamp from his bedroom to another room so to not be in his bedroom. Cause he sits down, fiddles around with something. Then gets up again and walks around, camera at ceiling (which was very confusing). But watching it a second and third time I think that he was setting the lamp up, connecting it perhaps, and then got up to close all the doors (bedroom door, bathroom door, closet door and who knows what other door) to go dark so we can see the beautiful projection.

And him having to connect the lamp, does it kinda maybe mean that he doesn't use it every night, mainly because who needs to fall asleep looking at the picture of the sun when the sun is right besides you in bed? Food for thought.

This is what he shows us at first.

He then turns the camera around to show other planets. But he always goes back to the sun. And makes sure to explain to us that it is the sun.

And while, once more, focusing on the sun says: "It's pretty, right?"

It definitely is.

And when he does his whole foot up in the air (I don't think he was pointing, because when he wanted to point he did it with his finger, pointing at the sun) caressing or whatever you want to think he was actually doing, it's with the sun.

You know what came to mind first thing I saw this?

JM and his love for playing footsies with JK.

Oh, and if I'm already going down memory lane, we have JK too.

Back to business.

I find it funny how JM on the one hand says multiple times he wanted to brag to us about the lamp, and then says it's embarrassing that a man nearing 30 sleeping with a lamp. And he talks about the friend appalled by it, lol. That a guy who lives alone (he repeats this) sleeps with a lamp. I guess that when you can't have the sun with you then a projection of it on the ceiling has to do.

JM adds: "these days I look at the ceiling and space out" - looks at the lamp projection that is. And when he says "these days", once again I'm thinking of it being due to JK's clearly super busy schedule.

So yeah, that was more or less part one of JM's house tour.

At this point JM turns off the light and walks back to the PC room (still only letting us see the ceiling as he is moving through the house).

He sits back down and tells us he is living his life like this.

He's sitting there reading comments for a few seconds and then he reads this one out:

Welcome to part 2 of the house tour, lol.

He straight away says: "you can see the secret room", grabs the camera and off he goes (again camera at ceiling of course), and asks himself "what are some things I can show?", while obviously there is still very much more that he doesn't want us to see.

He says "I will show just this one then", following by saying he really didn't want to show "my room", and then we are in his gym.

Shows us his treadmill, tells us "this is my secret room...right here."

So, let's pause for a second here before we move on.

JM clearly decided it's time to share with us (without saying it out loud) that he is boxing. A lot. The hands (he left raw for all to see) and showing us his gym as well.

JM has a punching bag at home.

No biggie, right?

He has a full proper gym at home, much like Tae does, and most likely the others too, well most of the others, because JK doesn't. JK, until a short while ago, didn't have any workout equipment at home. Let alone a punching bag. THE boxer in the group does not have a punching bag at home. And do we talk about the fact that all of his workout equipment, the little that he does have, is in his lounge room? I digressed. As usual. Anyway, now we know for sure (as if we didn't before) that JM is clearly boxing, and all that is left to see is his set of boxing gloves.

And then, JM goes to show us his dad's bedroom, for when he visits him. JM asks himself if there is anything he can show us from dad's room, answering "vacuum cleaner".

JM walks out of that last room, he looks around, nods with his head (looked like he was contemplating something but decided on NOPE), and walks back to the PC room.

End of house tour.

While on the way there he tells us how his parents "came over to my house and said this..."your house really has nothing, it's like a model house. It doesn't seem like a person lives here. Do you want us to change a bit?".

Ok, so JM's been living in that apartment at the very latest since May 2021. Over 2 years!! And in that time his parents must have visited multiple times. We know at least of once back in October 2021, so a long time ago. JM isn't telling us when exactly this was said to him, and timing, my friends, is everything. There is a before and an after that might be going on here. And It's kind of curious how at this point in time both JM's place and JK's place are lacking in the feeling of a home in the true sense of it. Lacking in adding their little personal touch to the place. Giving them both, at this point, the feel of these places being a temporary fix. Just until perhaps a certain 5 story house is built.

Do I address the marimo discussion and how it turned into a Suga discussion? Was that JM shutting down Yoonminers? Lol.

JM reads out a comment "I miss Jin and Jhope" and tells us he's thinking of going to visit them.

JM continues to read through the comments and reacts to them, this is around the 29 min. mark. You think the hand comments don't continue again? Like he hasn't addressed it 10 times already during this live. He smiles through it, but seriously!!!!

One comment has him giggling : "In my last dream you went out with me but I got dumped". Lmao. At least they were being realistic. His answer was: "I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional". Ehm, excuse me, but to me dumping feels very intentional. Lol.

One of the most annoying comments, well in my humble opinion, was the one asking him why the chocolate factories have closed. Poor man was waiting and waiting on a reply on that one, so much so he was putting off finishing the live, he was seriously curious, only to have this stupid ass punch line about him being sweet. From the expression on his face when he finally read the answer he was probably thinking "this is what I was waiting for?", lol.

JM's asked about his skin care routine to which he answers: "it's nothing, I just wash up, and I just apply it on my face. Just the cream". Thing is later on as he's closing up he says he has to go wash up but:

Curious.

Didn't he just tell us all about it earlier? Or was this him just being cheeky?

JM tells us he goes for a run in the middle of the night and runs into RM.

Quite interesting that the first time he noticed RM's poster was almost 2 weeks after it was placed there. Especially now that we know from him he's out jogging every night. Was he possibly away for a while? Perhaps not alone?

JM was asked about dramas he's watched and answered he hasn't watched many lately.

I guess JK being busy is the cause for that. We know for a fact that they watch shows together.

Then he's asked "show your 7 tattoos", to which JM answers:

"You saw it yesterday. Photos went up. Really...I saw that...Definitely...I'm an anchovy." giggle giggle giggle. "Anchovy...phew..." giggle..."just laugh at it and move on..."

Lol, I'm sure he's also referring to him standing on his tippie toes for the pose, trying to seem bigger and taller than he is.

Now wait a second here.

The comment asked him to show his 7 tattoos. Not "show your moon tattoo". Not "show your back tattoo". Clear as day talking about his 7 tattoos, and JM was the one to read it out!!!

So, obviously that riske (not really, but clearly an eye opener) photo he posted for JK's birthday was on his mind. Or is it more so that JK is on his mind?

JM's told he needs to sleep well. The man says it's rare, but he actually slept well today. Usually when he has schedules he doesn't sleep well. But:

I guess something, or someone, helped tire him out.

And yes, I can hear the guys on the balcony with the "if he slept so much he couldn't have been with JK". Yeah-nah. Have we not seen these guys schedules? Did I not talk about it in part 1? Night and day are non existent. JM slept 8 to 9 hours and came out - to his schedule, in the evening. These two go to sleep in the morning and wake up at noon. Even in JM's last live, when he was talking about having a proper schedule, including a proper sleep schedule, he was talking about sleeping in late. So no, him sleeping properly doesn't rule out them spending the night together. JM doesn't tell us when he went to sleep or when he woke up. Actually, the way he words it, it's more like he slept till late and woke up in time for his Dior schedule.

Pretty much this was where JM was wanting to end the live.

And starts to sum it up.

After a few more comments JM winds it up saying his goodbyes.

And that was the end of JM's live on JK 's birthday.

Oh, btw, remember I said that when I first saw JM's live photo I mistook it for JK? How those pants seemed a little big on him? Well came across this today:

I'm not 100% sold those are the exact pair of pants, but they sure look similar. And even if they aren't same pants, well my point in part 1 was proven - the pants being exactly the style that JK wears.

I had one more thing I wanted to talk about, which I'm not sure about, but thought it would be good to mention.

About the 12 minute mark JM is talking about taking lessons in English. And he was saying it's hard but he has to force himself to do it, cause otherwise he won't do it. And then he talks about how people get lazy and gives an example. And here is where I found something a little curious. There I go with that word again.

The word of the day: Curious.

Anyway, JM gives an example. And he words it like this:

"You know there is this. I came home as it is like this... It's 9:07... I think that I should wash up at 9:30... But we don't wash up... And later, when it's 1 in the morning... I should really wash up. To sleep...I must wash up. You also know this happens".

And he's giggling the whole time.

Did you notice? The switch from I to we?

Now, it could be him talking about him and us, but I kind of don't think it was, as he starts with I and goes to we and then back to I.

It could also definitely be a slip of the tongue.

You know who the we he might be talking about is. That plus one that turns I to we. That certain plus one that has told us on multiple occasions how he dislikes to wash up before sleep, delaying the inevitable as much as possible, also using that term lazy with regards to it.

Just thought I'd share this little thing I notices with you guys before I finish up with this post.

I feel like this part of my post is a little more all over the place (a bit like JM perhaps, lol). Maybe a little too much blurry and not enough sharp, lol. But hey, I guess it is what it is.

So, we had JK doing the short live nothing like his usual birthday lives, and then later in the day JM coming live, unplanned. Well more so unplanned from home. Could they have been planning to do a live together at Hybe? Could JK have been planning to and asked JM to go live in his place seeing he's held up?

Who knows.

What I do hope is that next time it's not going to be the two live on the same day, but rather the two live same day same time same place.

Here's wishing.

[lottienatsgf]

˚✧ ˚♡˚ ✧˚ abby anderson date alphabet (pt1)

synopsis: one date with abby for each letter of the alphabet, filled with pure fluff and drabbles about each one.

a/n: this has been so much fun to write omg, but it’s taken a lotttt longer than i’d expected, so i’m posting part one now while i continue to write part two. this part contains letters A-L !!! i hope everyone likes it :-)

A = arcade

abby isn’t much of a video game / arcade game person, but once she gets into it, she gets into it. she can’t even decide which machine to go to first; she wants to try everything. you can’t help but giggle as you watch her excitedly bounce from game to game, winning a surprisingly large amount of tickets. some friendly competition arises between the two of you, as she -of course- wants to win, but she’d never let that cause her to act mean to you in any way. after testing out each game, she decides that her favorite is the boxing one, the one where you simply punch the machine to see who can hit it the hardest. she plays this one over and over again, loving to impress you with her strength. after combining all of you tickets, she lets you pick out whichever shitty arcade prizes you want, her face lighting up as she watches you pick out different types of candy and plushies.

B = beach

abby simply doesn’t understand why you’re packing so much in your bag for just a simple day trip to the beach, but she doesn’t complain. arriving at the sandy beach, you can’t help but stare at your beautiful girlfriend, dressed in a tight white tank top and swimming trunks. her hair is tied up loosely in her signature braid, blowing carelessly in the wind. your day on the beach begins! abby ends up being glad that you overpacked, and she happily uses up the sunscreen you brought. even still, the sun tints her cheeks a soft pink color, making her freckles stand out even more. you kiss each one of them before carefully rubbing another blob of sunscreen onto her face. abby prefers to stay in the sand under the umbrella instead of going into the water, but she gladly inspects all the seashells you show her, marveling over your eye for finding the best ones. you stay at the beach all day, soaking up the warmth and the salt air. at the end of the day, you sit together on the blanket, sandy legs intertwined as you watch the sun set over the ocean.

C = camping

abby is a WHORE for camping. she eats up every minute of it, loving the outdoor time and a chance to show off her strength while also spending quality time with the love of her life. she makes sure to do everything for you; carrying all the equipment, setting up the tent, starting the fire… absolutely everything. even with your rebuttal, it’s always, “relax, baby. i’ve got this.” she’s quick to comfort you if you express any fears of being in the middle of the woods at night or getting eaten alive by a bear, and she holds you close to her as the sun goes down. the two of you sit on the ground by the fire and make s’mores, and abby keeps giggling about how sticky her hands are getting from the marshmallows. once the nighttime air becomes cooler, she wraps her jacket around you, making sure you never become cold. you stay up all night with her by the fire, listening to her corny jokes, having deep conversations about the world, and stuffing yourselves full with s’mores. when you finally decide to go to sleep, she pulls you into her sleeping bag, insisting that it’s simply “to keep warm.” she holds you tight as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in her strong arms and lulled to sleep by the gentle beating of her heart and the crickets chirping outside the tent.

D = dinner and dessert

after a loooong day of working, abby wants to treat you to a nice little surprise. she watches as you get all dolled up, literal heart eyes as you apply makeup and style your hair. once you’re both ready, she takes you to a fancy dinner at your favorite restaurant. “pick out whatever you want,” she tells you. you glance at the menu, not wanting to spend her money. “are you sure?” “you deserve it. you spoil me so much, let me do the same now.” she insists. you order your favorite food, and you enjoy your meal together in the romantic candlelight. it takes you forever to finish your meal since the two of you can’t stop talking, discussing things going on in your lives. after dinner, she takes you out for dessert, bringing you to an adorable cafe with so many options to choose from. abby orders a coffee and a slice of cake, and you get your favorite sweet treat. she gushes over how beautiful you look and won’t stop staring at you to eat her dessert. finally, you both finish, and abby insists on order another slice of cake togo so she can eat it later.

E = escape room

abby is so. good. at escape rooms. she’s incredibly smart and always solves them so quickly, but she pretends to be confused just so she can have more time with you on the date. “yeah, i really have no idea what to do here,” she’ll say, meanwhile she’s already two steps ahead of you. still, she loves watching you figure it out, the way your brow furrows as you think and the way you talk out your thoughts as they come to you. of course, there’s been a few instances where the two of you have gotten in trouble at an escape room for making out when you were supposed to be solving the puzzle, which you both laugh about any time you go back to one.

F = fair

abby is pretty nervous about a fair date. there’s huge crowds, long lines, and you can’t forget about her fear of heights. she absolutely refuses to go on any rides that leave the ground, but she’s more than happy to play rigged carnival games with you and try all the different types of fair food. you beg her to ride the ferris wheel with you so you can kiss her at the top of it, but she won’t give in. her compromise is to give you as many kisses as you want - as long as her feet don’t leave the ground. of course, you take her up on this, smothering her with kisses any chance you can get. she blushes as this draws the eye of a few people, but neither of you really care. abby is somehow a master at the fair games, especially the darts or shooting ones. she has no use for any of the prizes, so she gives them all to you. by the end of the day, your stomachs are full from excessive amounts of fried food, and abby’s hands are full of huge plushies that she won for you. “that wasn’t horrible, hmm?” you tease her. “absolutely terrible,” she replies sarcastically, earning a kiss on her nose before you leave the fair.

G = gym

it’s no secret that abby loves the gym. she’s so happy that you finally agreed to go with her, and she gets you the cutest athletic set to wear. you have no idea what half the machines in the gym are, but abby quickly gets you accustomed to everything. you end up having a pretty good time, racing abby for who can run the fastest mile (she wins. obviously) and who can lift the heaviest weights (again, she wins) the exercise is done in a fun way, and abby is soooo supportive. “hell yeah!” she’ll exclaim after you complete and exercise, and she makes sure to reward you with tons of kisses and praise. she’s become your own personal cheerleader, and you return the favor as she works out. you can’t help but stare at her muscles as she flexes them, earning playful smirks from your girl while she continues to show off her skills.

H = horror movies

abby looooves watching horror movies with you. not so much for the actual movie aspect, but mainly just because she loves to hold you during the really scary parts and run her hands through your hair as you bury your face into her chest. before the movie, she insists on preparing a plethora of snacks, because “that’s just part of the movie watching experience.” you finally get everything ready and you curl up in bed with abby, flicking off the lights and starting the movie. she pretends to not be scared, but you still catch her flinching at the jump scares and you can feel her heart beating faster. you snuggle close to her, loving the feeling of her protective arms around you as the movie goes on. you absentmindedly trace over her skin with your fingers while you watch, and abby occasionally leans down to kiss the top of your head. halfway through, the two of you become way more interested in making out than watching the movie, which leads to the entire last half of the movie being forgotten. as the credits begin to roll, abby pulls away from your lips, leaning over to check the time. “over already?” she grins, reconnecting her lips with yours once more.

I = ice skating

after dressing up in warm clothing (and a lot of persuasion) abby reluctantly follows you to the ice skating rink. abby does not like skating. however, more than that, she likes pleasing her girl, so she obliges. let’s just say that abby is not good at ice skating. of course, you’re not a pro at it, but even a small child could be better at skating than abby. her usual confidence disappears the second she steps onto the slippery ice, and she begs you to hold her hand and never leave her side. as you slowly glide over the ice, she grips your hand impossibly tight, her knuckles turning white and her hands becoming increasingly sweaty. she’s a mess, and of course, she’s incredibly embarrassed about this. you find it adorable to watch her slip around on the ice and insist on holding your hand, begging “no! no, please don’t let go!” but finally, she’s been struggling so much that you decide to just leave early, promising her that no, you’re not mad and no, she didn’t look stupid. on the way home you stop to get a sweet treat for a very defeated looking abby, who gladly accepts it.

J = jewelry making

as soon as you come up with the idea of a jewelry making date, you and abby storm the craft store for supplies, returning home with bags of beads, string, and charms. neither of you could decide on just one color or design, so you just bought everything. a little while later finds you both sprawled out on the carpet, carefully sliding plastic beads of all colors onto the string. abby lays on her stomach, propped up by her elbows. she would never ever admit it to her friends, but she’s actually really enjoying herself. some light music plays in the background, and your girl hums along softly, focused intently on figuring out the perfect color combination for her bracelet. you’ve been stringing together a combination of pinks and purples (as well as some heart and star charms) and abby seems to have decided on a light shade of blue. the two of you work mostly in silence, too focused to engage in conversation, but she’ll occasionally look up at you with pure adoration in her eyes, her mouth spread into a wide smile. after a long time of bracelet making, abby sits up, reaching out to you to drop a bracelet into your hand. “for you,” she grins as you examine the bracelet. it’s a chaotic mess of an entire rainbow of colors, but it’s the letter beads in the center that catch your attention: a-b-b-y. “you can wear it all the time, and i’ll always be with you,” she winks. “that was the corniest thing i’ve ever-“ you begin to say, but the sound of her laughter cuts you off. she takes the bracelet into her hands, sliding it carefully onto your wrist. in return, you gift abby with one of the bracelets you made, a soft pink one with glittery hearts. blushing profusely, abby puts it on, rotating her arm to admire it. “i love it. i love you,” she says, kissing the tip of your nose. abby wears your bracelet every day, never taking it off her wrist. anytime you see abby, you can guarantee that she’ll be wearing her pink beaded bracelet given to her by the one and only.

K = karaoke

after finding an old karaoke disc stored away in an abandoned building, abby is insistent upon trying it out with you. you’re pretty embarrassed to sing in front of her, but abby promises you that she won’t judge you. after lots of begging, you give in, and abby pops the dvd into the player and sits you down next to her on the couch. she’s gathered two hairbrushes to use as microphones, persistent on the idea that this has to be “as realistic as possible.” however, as soon as the dvd starts playing, you know you’re in for a mess. all of the songs are ancient, and you have no idea how any of them sound. this results in you and abby guessing the melodies, singing painfully out of tune while making up how you think the song would go. “ooh, i got this one!” she exclaims before breaking into the chorus of one song, tripping over her words and laughing more than actually singing. “yeah, you really do,” you tease her, even though you’re no better. all of your fears about singing in front of abby are gone, replaced by the sheer happiness of the two of you laughing and playing around together. even though neither of you know any of the old songs, you still play the dvd until its very end, dramatically improving to all the songs. by the time it’s done, you’re both sore from smiling so hard and worn out from all the laughing.

L = library

abby looooves reading. huge book nerd. she flies through novels, always wanting to talk to you about what she just read. one day, she takes you with her to the library to pick out some new books. as soon as you enter the building, she’s off, on her way to find her newest selection. you follow cluelessly behind her, pointing out books with interesting covers, or marveling over how long some of them are. “this one is so good,” she’ll say to you, pointing out a book on the shelf that you’re passing. you pick up a few books, reading the synopsis and flipping through the pages. abby continues to wind through the shelves, curiously hunting for a new book. after searching the entire library, her hands are full of books of different lengths. “okay, which one should i get?” she asks you. you look through each one, wanting to make the best decision. finally, you’ve made your pick, and abby heads to the counter to check it out. you follow behind her, gazing at your beautiful girlfriend. she looks so happy, so excited. she hasn’t stopped smiling since you set foot in the building, and you just love watching her do things that she loves.

[invictarre-archive]

time to re-paste my tags and tag everything I’ve been getting lazy with  :))))))))

can’t wait for these to get deleted !!!!!!!!!!

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ [1, 3] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 13k for parts 1+2 a/n: two weeks of brainrot later

L.A ended up as sun-kissed and vibrant as rumored, teeming with that felt like three times the people as New York. The plane ride went over smoothly, despite your nerves, although you can’t help criticizing Tony for his carbon footprint. You’re fortunate that the planning aspect is entirely in his hands, from the flight to the hotel. You knew what time to get ready and your destination, and that kept miles of stress away. 

Upon reaching the hotel, a grand stone structure adorned with decorative pillars, the potential arrangements for sleeping arrangements loomed over you. The forgotten vulnerability returned, and you walked beside Tony with uneasy legs, hoping your worry was unnecessary. 

To your relief, your accommodations are separate. You’re given peace of mind, chastising yourself for thinking the worst as you make the ascent in the elevator. Tony passes you cursory looks, reassuring you and assuming your nerves were travel-related.

In the hallway, Tony excuses himself to attend to some last-minute problems, apologizing and disappearing into his room. You followed suit, groaning against your wooden door as it creaked shut.

No matter how happy you were with Tony, the same thoughts resurfaced time and time again. The whispers in your head that told you the facade would melt away- warning of impending implosion. The memories of the look on his face weeks ago that brought you nearly to tears. To spare yourself the rabbit hole thinking about it would send you in, you decided to sleep it away. The event wasn’t until tomorrow anyway, and your body ached for rest.

You don’t wake till the sun’s long gone, hearing Tony’s knock at your door. A sleepy greeting slips from lips, clad in pajama shorts and tank top. Time and exhaustion fast-tracked your comfort around him, to the point that you don’t think to change when you answer. 

Even though you know he’s spent the night running computations and phone calls or whatever it is he does, he looks as refreshed as ever. His three piece suit diminished to just one in that time, leaving him in just a dark button-up and pants—the most unpolished version of Tony you've witnessed you’ve seen, an amusing sight that you commit to memory.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. What do you say to dinner?” His gaze seems to fall anywhere on your petite form but your face for a moment, leaning against the door frame.

“I think everything’s closed by now.” You yawn, already thinking about crawling back into bed. The rumble in your stomach could wait, right? 

Behind Tony’s back emerges a shiny bottle of whiskey accompanied by a plastic take-out bag.

“Good thing Cafe Stark is open 24 hours.” 

Eventually, you’ll have to build your resolve against his infectious smile, but when combined with the mouth-watering aroma wafting from the bag, the game feels rigged from the start.

You and Tony share a relatively silent meal for once, the small rosewood table in the corner of your room serving as a makeshift dining spot. Mostly because a thousand-year nap still sounded beneficial, speaking through heavy-lidded eyes. Tony, abnormally preoccupied, seldom sets his phone down for more than five minutes at a time. As usual, you don’t truly mind it. Without fail, though, that incessant voice comes back, telling you all sorts of theories. 

At some point as you're gathering the empty boxes to toss in the trash, Tony hums in approval before abandoning his phone on the dresser. Before you can ask, the whiskey is brandished by Tony. 

You can see past the sunny smile for a moment, catching a glint of worry on his face. 

“Everything okay?” The short glasses you bring over make a sharp clink on the aged wood.

Dark amber liquid fills his glass, sliding down his throat in one go. He chuckles at your question, finding it your concern sweet. 

“Don’t start worrying about me.” He halts the protest forming on your lips with a kiss, leaning across the table and taking your hands in his. 

It’s a potent amnestic, and you forget about all the alarm bells ringing in your ears. 

Drunken stories and laughter fill the room for the rest of the night. You both remark here and there that sleep would be wise, yet the hours tick on. 

A lull of silence falls between you after Tony finishes roaring at a joke you make about your roommate’s parents. In the hotel’s dim glow, Tony’s eyes look golden. You get lost in them for a time, lying beside him on the cotton sheets. 

A few strands of perfectly coiffed hair have fallen out of place, matching his recently wrinkled button-up. There’s never a time you aren’t totally smitten with him, but the whiskey twists into want easily. 

“Mind if I ask you something?” Tony looks down at you, leaning back against the headboard with warm and amused eyes. 

“Sure, shoot.” 

Anything to keep him looking at you like that. 

“Your parents, you never talk about them, why?” 

Anything but that. 

Truthfully, Tony already knew the answer. The first night after he ended up in the bar, he might have done a bit of a background check on you, mostly for his own safety. But also to see what leads a girl like you to a job like that. He wanted to hear it from you, though, and knew by now that nudging you in the right direction worked well enough.

“Not much to talk about really.” The bedsheet drags against your skin when you shift awkwardly. You’re used to this question, and the hate for it only grows with each recurrence.

“Is that so?” He mutters absently, reaching down to twist a strand of your hair between his fingers.

“They died when I was young. Car accident, not much of a story.” You break away from his heated gaze, choosing instead to lay your head against the pillows. At this point, you expect the usual pitiful platitudes people say, something along the lines of I’m so sorry or that’s awful . 

“I get it. Mine too. Not that young, though.” Tony adds sympathetically, sliding down onto his side next to you. He’s close enough that you smell the whiskey on his breath, tickling your nose.

“How old were you?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, as Tony seldom shared details about his family. You knew the business he ran was his father’s, and his mother’s name, and that was pretty much it. Most things he seemed to keep private, but you hoped the whiskey would help get you somewhere.

“Twenty-one, while I was in college.” There doesn’t seem to be any hesitancy in his answer, so you feel confident enough to push your luck.

“What were they like?”

“Eh, my father was kind-of an ass, wasn’t much of a loss to the world.” He says it too nonchalantly, throwing you off. You attribute it to the empty bottle.

“I don’t know if I should say sorry or congrats.” 

”Either works for me.” Tony laughs, resting an arm on your side. His thumb finds the small patch of exposed skin from your shirt riding up, grazing absentmindedly. It’s distracting as ever, pulling you away from the conversation to focus on his touch. 

“At least I had other people, sounds like you’ve just been alone.” He breaks you out of the daydreams you're lost in.

“Wasn’t terrible.” you respond gently, fiddling with a button on his shirt. 

“Still, you deserve better.” He watches your eyes drift to the small button, searching for his own resolve. It drove him nearly mad to see you in the exorbitant dresses he buys, but lately something about you dressed down, relaxed, nearly killed him. You look angelic next to him, staring through heavy eyes, clearly in your own little world.

“‘Think I’m doing just fine.” you laugh. 

“Hm, maybe.” 

He doesn’t disagree completely, but knew you were built for bigger things. A good chunk of his attraction came from knowing how hard you’d worked, a quality he recognized and respected.

Contrary to what news articles say, his intellect and success didn’t come naturally. It was deliberate, hard work to do what he did. Countless hours of studying, research, testing— all to try to mimic a fraction of what his father could do. Since he was a child, Tony was dead set on proving to his father that he could run Stark Industries. 

Yet, Howard was never persuaded, and planned on leaving the corporation to one of his lead engineers.

In the end, it didn’t matter anyways. He died before he could sign the paperwork.

Tony saw that same drive and ambition in you, you just needed a little help. And he would make sure it was his.

“Maybe?” you feign offense. The warm hand gracing your side loops to the small of your back.

“Think you just need someone to take care of you.” 

“I might be a little too old for that.”

“Not what I meant.” 

That pulls you away from his shirt for a moment, meeting his eyes with raised eyebrows. 

“What do you mean then?”

The meaning takes too long to dawn on you, and Tony’s resolve feels weaker than ever. Instead of answering you, he goes to kiss you, pulling you close with the hand on your back.

There’s no doubt in his mind that he shouldn’t do this, fearing an inability to be satisfied with just that. That voice is too quiet to pay any attention to, turning the kiss long and passionate. His teeth scrape against your lip, sighing into you when he feels your body relax. 

For the first time, he doesn’t wait for your reaction, pushing you onto your back. You feel his hand tighten around your thigh, wrapping your leg to his waist. You’re a worked up mess beneath him soon enough, grabbing at his side to pull him closer. His large biceps rests on either side of your head, fingers entangled in your hair. 

Shaky hands reach for the belt on his waist, only to cause Tony to pull away from you completely. He holds both your hands in his, equally dazed and panting. He appears lost in thought for a moment, and you start to worry you made the wrong move. 

You don’t have to worry for long, as Tony moves to the end of the bed, pulling you with him and kneeling before you quickly. Hungry lips on your bare thighs leave your head light, fingers already hooked around your shorts. 

“Tony, what are you-”

“Taking care of you.” he murmurs as they slip past your ankles. 

The hungry gaze washes over your center, catching your breath in your throat. You don’t get the chance to respond—a heavy tongue gracing your folds. Tony moans at the taste of you, reverberating up your spine. He hates that he made himself wait for this—every sound from your mouth worsening the strain in his pants. 

Your tensing legs are tossed haphazardly over his shoulders. You expected the same tenderness he always granted to you, but this is entirely different. He grips your hips rigidly, wrapping his lips around your clit and pulling you as close as he could. 

His ears focus on each moan, how the pitch in your whines heightened when he sucks hard on the aching bundle of nerves. A large, flat hand across your stomach gets you to lie back,  hands flying to the dark locks tickling your thighs. 

He’s obviously making up for a perceived loss of time, increasing intensity with every swipe of his tongue, your arousal coating his mouth. It sends your body into overdrive, hands reaching for him, searching for any kind of reprieve. 

Tony knows he’ll never get enough when your breath turns low and stuttery, fingers digging into the back of his nape and the hand bruising your hip. You lose sense of what sounds are coming from Tony and which are coming from the mess between your thighs, mixing into a symphony of ecstasy in your ears.

He unlocks a new melody, the addictive sound of your broken, pleading cries calling out his name. He wants to tell you how fucking incredible you sound, but that would require stopping and there’s no chance he was doing that. 

You try to tell him to slow down, the arousal in your stomach building faster than you have time to process. It’s a wasted effort, having any attempts at forming full sentences ruined by the tongue lapping at your entrance.

You feel an approving moan shake through your core, thighs growing stickier. He could feel how close you were, hips shuddering in his grasp. He only grips harder in response, holding you still as you jerk against his tongue. Without warning, the tight bundle in your gut reaches its crest, and Tony gets lost in the river of filth that leaves your mouth. 

You’re foolish for thinking he’d stop there, but instead his lips return to suck gently on your clit, moaning into you. Just when you think you might pass out from the overstimulation, he pulls away to grace your inner thigh with light kisses. 

Tony reclines, captivated by the dazed look on your face and the soft panting of your lips. 

You sit up to face him on unsteady arms, your hazy eyes revealing that there's only one thought on your mind— him , just how he needed it.

The earlier worries become ironically useless, as you sleep beside Tony that night. 

The next evening’s celebration unfolds on a quiet street, a hidden gem thankfully only hosting around twenty or thirty people. The ambient lights of the quaint club aren’t dim enough for you to ignore how underdressed you are. Envisioning a more formal dinner, you dressed simply in flowy olive dress, while other attendees exuded glamor in fancy suits. Tony of course being no exception, donning a dark gray suit and black shirt. Tony seemed unphased by the music and dancing, walking in and greeting people without pause. 

On this particular night, Tony has a singular mission — to keep you in his sight at all times. More accurately, to prevent you from engaging conversation with a select few individuals without his presence. It's not just about showcasing you; it's mostly protective, an attempt to mitigate the risks involved in intertwining you with this side of his life. 

Nearly anything seemed worth having you by his side. It’s a good weakness to have, he thinks. He swears it’s because you make him a better person, and though you always laugh it off and tell him he was already great, it’s another thing that gnaws at the back of your mind.

You're introduced to several of the guests, some names vaguely familiar, others entirely new. Natasha Romanoff stands out, her presence seeming to be the most grounded in reality. It becomes apparent that she is another member in this new endeavor of Tony’s. When you ask what she does for a living, she responds with business, and nothing more. Worse, when you ask about the other members, Natasha shoots a cautionary glance at Tony and smoothly redirects the conversation, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. 

For the most part afterwards, Tony’s mission is a success. He does his best to stay tethered to you, dodging boring conversation after boring conversation. Despite his vigilance, the forces of nature are ineffable, leading you to the bathroom after a few champagne shoots. 

He’d only looked away for one second , he swears, but all it took was a moment to lose track of you.

Upon your exit from the restroom, you decide to get ahead of your hangover. You catch the bartender’s attention at the bar instead of finding Tony. As you wait for the glass of water, your eyes scan the room to find him. Instead, a tall rugged blonde man takes over your view, sliding into the seat next to you. You pay him little mind, still scanning for Tony. Piercing blue eyes won’t leave you though, even as you thank the bartender and continue to search for the billionaire. 

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing with an old bastard like Stark?” 

His words stop you in place, turning on your heel. 

“I’m sorry?”

The smirk on his face is cold, unnerving. You don’t recall meeting him earlier in the night, and you're certain you wouldn’t have forgotten. He shifts in the barstool, facing you as he sips from his glass before laughing dryly.

“Forgive me, you just don’t like the kind of girl Tony normally parades around. Unless merchants of death are your kind of thing. And you’re definitely not the escort type.” 

“Excuse me?” 

This only humors the man more, and worsens your thoughts.

“What,” he continues once he’s done laughing at the look on your face. “It’s a compliment, really. Tony’s girls normally overdo it with the makeup, it’s a dead giveaway—”

“No, what do you mean ‘merchant of death’?”

“Oh, come on, you—” he responds patronizingly, “Shoot, is this your first night? He might not have told you yet—”

“Told me what ?” You don’t have the energy to explain to this guy that you aren’t getting an hourly pay for this. 

There’s too much fun in it for him to drag this out, even though he knows his time alone with you is both costly and limited. He makes the decision to laugh again and down the rest of his glass before answering you. 

“Don’t tell me he picked a dumb one. At least Pepper had a brain between her ears?”

“Who’s Pepper?” 

The stars are aligning perfectly for him.

“His wife?” he fakes a puzzled expression, making you feel oblivious for not knowing. 

As you stand there shocked and confused, your eyes catch Tony walking steadfast towards the bar. 

“See, they do this thing, ‘fight, cheat, threaten divorce, make up, repeat’ cycle. It’s amusing most of the time, just shocked to see someone like you in it.” 

Across the room, Tony’s blood starts to boil. 

He’d caught the look you gave him, a confusion-ridden disgust that he couldn’t place until he saw who you were with. He left whatever suit was yapping his ear off, pushing through the small, crowded space. He can’t do anything but curse himself for being so careless—unfortunately, he’s not fast enough, watching Steve’s mouth open like a floodgate. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Rogers.” He speaks through gritted teeth, fists balled at his sides. He takes over the small space between you two, and over his shoulder you see the blonde man lean back in apparent satisfaction. There’s no point in asking what was said, Tony can guess well enough. 

“ What ?” Steve responds, a dramatic shrug of the shoulders follows.

Steve's cold smirk adds insult to injury, leaving Tony torn between the desire to break Steve's jaw and the fear of you never seeing him the same. 

The carefully, thoughtful plan he had for you is in disarray, thanks to Steve. You weren’t supposed to know about Pepper for another month, maximum. He planned on taking you to the gallery and telling you, but that chance was robbed from him.

It felt entirely unfair to him, having his dirty laundry thrown at you without any context. To prevent creating a bigger hole, though, he turns back to you. You’d spent the last minute wrapping your head around everything said. You felt almost physically sick, but mostly stupid for ignoring everything sooner. All that security you felt last night? Gone in a flash.

“You have to let me explain this—”

“I want to leave.”

Tony sighs, figuring it wasn’t the worst you could have said, but hates hearing the tone in your voice nonetheless. So, stubbornly and more than pissed, he leads you away from Rogers to the exit, and tries not to think about how you recoil away when his hand graces your back. 

He tries speaking to you in the car, to no avail. You're too busy beating yourself up for being so stupid. You had fallen for it, the charm, the gifts, the mystery— it worked brilliantly and earned you nothing but hurt in the end. Just like you feared it would. 

A second attempt in the elevator wins him no prizes either. 

There’s a third attempt brewing when you reach your floor. You had barely looked at him, and each time it felt like being stabbed. You didn’t see a point in talking about anything, making a beeline for your door. You imagined yourself packing, leaving in the morning and never seeing him again. Go back to the life you were supposed to be living, not this fantasy with him.

It’s not a plan of action you accept happily, and either way you don’t get the chance. The expectant sound of your hotel room door shutting behind you never comes, stopped by Tony’s leather shoe in the wooden frame. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting you shut him out. He could read your face the entire way back, seeing your full intent to leave without another word. 

“Just go away.” You want to sound angrier, but defeat is the only emotion you muster.

“You’re overreacting.” He declares, voice bouncing in the empty hall. 

“Really? Am I?” 

You’re shocked when the door is pushed open fully. The space you try to take back by stepping away is overtaken. Tony shuts the door behind him, harsh enough to make you jump a bit. 

“You are.” Tony’s hands disappear into his gray suit pockets, looking down at your alarmed frame.

“And you’re married.” Another step back, only for Tony to step forward again.

“Do you see a ring on my finger, hm?”

“That’s not the fucking point.” One more step back, in vain. The feeling of being trapped screams at you, but doesn’t move your body. “What else have you lied about?”

“I have never lied to you.” 

That seemed more believable than anything else. The small breadth of space you gain is taken once more. You don’t move again, knowing the wall wasn’t far behind you. It pissed you off even more to see his jaw clenched, staring at you as if you were having some tantrum and not rightfully upset. 

“Then who’s Pepper? How many other women are you toying with like little playthings? You’re an arrogant, asshole, liar -” you spat, letting your anger surpass his own. 

Tony moves closer, and you end up against the wall regardless of your efforts. You start to tell him off again, a rant cut short by a hand grasping your face, and another pining your wrist to the wall. Your heart quickens, squirming against him. 

“You’re starting to offend me, honey.” he says lowly, the warmth of his breath spreading across your face. His dark eyes don’t leave you, and you have a sense this is worse than throwing a drink in someone’s face. He was growing tired of this recurrent debate from you. Many adjectives could be used to describe him—arrogant, hot-headed, selfish, but disloyal wasn’t one— and he considered it a disrespectful thing to insinuate. 

“You,” he trails off, thumb shifting down to your throat. “—are the only one. Pepper and I have been done for a long time. Steve knows that.”

“Did she leave after she got tired of you sleeping around?”

‘ Did Steve care to mention how Pepper cheated first? How she threatened to sell me out if I left her? Of course not ’, Tony thinks.

More panicked, harsh words of doubt and inquiry leave you, but they’re quickly shushed by Tony. You know you shouldn’t but you feel a familiar guilt for the disapproval clouding his face. You don’t have the foresight to see that you were right for making them.

“You wanna call me a liar? What exactly have I been dishonest about, huh?” The question is clearly extremely rhetorical. 

“If you were just some ‘ plaything ’  to me,” he mocks, the hands on the side of your face tightening, electrifying your skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to keep your eyes on him.  “We wouldn’t be here, you should know that.”

“Then why keep it from me?” 

You don’t even know how to ask what Steve meant by ‘merchant of death’, and honestly, you don’t think it’s worth making things worse.  You hate that it’s this easy for him, hate the conflicting feelings—his touch melting your anger. It’s no help that you didn’t want any of it to be true anyway. 

“If I decide you don’t need to know something, you don’t. Simple as that.” 

In Tony’s mind, this was for your benefit in the long run, and he doesn’t see a need to explain that. You should just trust him, or atleast you did before Rogers’ opened his big fucking mouth. His anger is mostly placed with the blonde man, but he still expects better from you. He couldn’t have you believing others over him. You’d already expressed doubts about his loyalty before, and he spent a lot of time repairing that. 

Leave it to Blondie to ruin it all. 

To his dismay, you remain silent. He pictures the inner-workings of your mind, doubting everything he’s done to win your trust. The hand against your throat and arm keeping you in place might not be helping his case, but still they remain. He can’t fathom letting go, not if there’s even a slightest chance you’ll leave. 

“That’s applied to almost everything in your life so far.” There’s fear in poking the proverbial bear, yet you do it anyway. There’s too many thoughts battling in your mind, causing the words to nearly catch in your throat. 

“What is it you need to believe me—to know that you’re mine?” His voice shifts, remaining stern but turning heavier. He releases your arm, moving to grasp the green fabric at your side. 

There was obvious disdain between Tony and the man at the bar, giving you deniability to add to his claims. You started to think it was more likely he knew which buttons to push, to put you at odds with each other. Maybe you were getting entangled in corporate politics you didn’t understand without Tony. This was your mistake, just like before.

The words overheat in your mind, warming your skin and wreaking havoc on your thoughts.  Some tell you nothing would change it, that you wanted to give up on this. Others, louder, tell you anything would win you over, that you were looking for any reason not to. The mental gymnastics start anew, but end with the same conclusion. 

You want to chastise yourself for how willfully you fell back into his eyes, angry and want-ridden. The confidence you had earlier about leaving becomes a difficult feat to manage, overtaken by every screaming aspect of you that urges you to stay. Tony didn’t know it then, but he got what he wanted regardless of the wrench thrown by Steve— you, right in the palm of his hand. 

He expects a genuine answer, one you don’t have. So, in typical fashion, he decides for you. 

Tony considers it your fault for what he’s about to do, staring back at him with doe-eyes and flushed skin. Plans are built to be changed anyways—and he clearly needed to send a stronger message.

Without warning, you’re pulled by shoulder the short distance from the wall to the nearby chaise, resting in front of a high mirror.  You question Tony, to no reprieve, pushed forward onto your knees. In the reflection, you watch his arm snake around your body, returning a rough hand to your throat, bringing your back flush with his chest- his other hand tight on your hip.

“ Relax ,” he whispers against your ear, and chills run up your spine. 

“Tony-” you start, trying to twist in your position to look back at him. It’s a useless effort, large arms easily keeping you place.

“Eyes up,” he instructs, and your attention is directed forwards, meeting his eyes in the reflection. 

The olive dress is bunched to your waist, witnessing his hand teasingly graze along your thigh before disappearing under the cascading fabric. It stops there a moment, fingers dancing at the hem of your panties. Desire stirs in you with little prompting, Tony’s lips trailing down your neck nipping gently. 

“Don’t you see what I see—how pretty you look, doll?” he stays locked onto you, holding you steady when you jerk against his hand folding behind your underwear. Soft fingers draw slow circles on your clit, pulling a gasp from your mouth. “—why would I need anyone else.”

It’s pure filth, watching your own body react to every movement in the shadowy room, every bite against your heated neck. Tony’s quiet declarations only dampen your mind.

“You’re perfect, ” His voice drops lower, increasing his pace as the hand on your neck grows firm. “—just for me.” 

There’s static in the air, surrounding your limbs. The obscene picture in front of him sets every nerve on fire, watching your hands reach for his arm, watching you try so hard to not fall into the obscenity in your ear. 

Gravity is indiscriminate, so you fall nonetheless. The heavy fingers tease your wet entrance, only to retract and circle your clit before returning for more. It’s all soft and light, barely as much as you need. You turn desperate before you know it, focused on the flex of his bicep in the mirror with every stroke.

Unfortunately for you, this wasn’t really about pleasure. This was about trust. He needed that, for you to know how consumed he was by you. He’s certain you can feel his hard member pressing into the back of your thighs, a heated, heavy reminder that you were all he wanted. You must know— based on the wetness pooling in his hand and your eyes centered on him. 

“All mine .”

You cry out when a finger surpasses your entrance. You watch it be cut off by the hand at your throat, gripping harder to keep your noises at a minimum. There’s no resistance, wet and desperate enough to suck him in completely. The hand bruising your hip rocks you back onto his fingers. 

All those questions you had, about Pepper, his work, Steve—they’re gone. Disintegrated in the same heat that coils your stomach. Moving away from Tony’s sickeningly slow ministrations isn’t an option, trapped between his body and his tight hold. 

“I should put that rude little mouth to better use.” Tony whispers, free of any reason to hold himself back. You felt undervalued, fine. He’d see to it that’d never happen again. He’d let you hear just how badly he wanted you. He needed that same look in your eye from last night. The one that shined for him and only him.

He doesn’t take the stutter of your frame as a reason to slow down, only a reason to push you over the edge. The finger inside you is joined by a second, curving into you. The lace of panties is soaked through, a dark patch spreading to your thighs. You can’t focus on the mirror any longer, shutting your eyes tightly as you reach your peak—softly rushing through you as Tony’s praises flood into your ear. 

He doesn’t let go—large arms wrapping around you until your breath returns to normal. You open your eyes to meet Tony’s lustful eyes reflected back to you.

“Still having doubts?”

Tony’s patience was completely run through, the short fuse sparked to unrepairable levels. Again, he thinks it’s mostly your fault. He had no issue treating you like gold, but he only thought it right that you at least trusted him. 

You give a quick shake of the head, panting and watching the hands around you leave. You turn and sit in the chaise facing him, his jaw still clenched.

“Good.” he responds slowly. Eyes rake over you beneath him, with Tony imagining a hundred more ways to have you moaning his name. He finds the willpower not to act on them, instead turning for the door.

“You should rest.” He says before you can find the right words to say, door shutting behind him. 

Sleeping proves difficult—thoughts overwhelmed with Tony being a room away. There’s also Pepper and Steve floating around your mind, though never for long. Before you can give way to thinking about it, you inevitably end up catching a glimpse of the mirror in the corner—and everything Tony said plays in vivid sound. Then, an unbearable warmth pools in between your thighs, causing your thoughts to be consumed by him again. 

The frustrating cycle repeats for hours.

Finally, you decide you’ve had enough, leaving your suite and winding up in front of Tony’s door. He answers on the third tap of your fingers, clad in tight black briefs. You have enough clarity to keep your eyes from focusing on that, or the exposed sculpted chest. 

“Can I come in?” You feel pathetic for the way you ask, but it’s worth it, because he steps aside for you to enter.

You walk across the large room, sitting on the end of the unmade bed. Tony stays in the middle of the room, arms crossed in front of his body, waiting.

“You said I don’t need to know everything but,” you start, only growing more anxious when Tony raises an impatient eyebrow. “Pepper, what happened there? Why have I never heard of her before? At least tell me that.”

Tony sighs, contemplating if the distrust in your eye is worth possibly pushing you away for good. You’d see through any bullshit he tried to sell, not that he would make something up anyway. But, it’s for that reason that he knows he won’t get away with telling a half truth. He decides to take it as a sign that you’re still here, in his room, and that you still didn’t leave. 

“We were married, she cheated.” He decides to omit his own revenge cheating. He considered their relationship done at that point anyway, just took him too long to realize. 

“So, you’re divorced?”

“Not exactly, it’s complicated.” He sighs again. “But we are not together—in any capacity.”

You want to ask what exactly is complicated about signing a piece of paper, but you leave well enough alone. 

“Then why not tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d stay if you knew. Couldn’t risk it.” It’s mostly true.

It comes out soft and heartfelt enough for you to believe it. Besides, so many parts of you didn’t want to be upset with him, for any reason. You didn’t have the will to end things, and you didn’t want to find it either. You stare at the floor, trying to process this new aspect of him. His shadow moves across the floor, coming before you to caress your face.

“You don’t need to worry, doll. “ Tony murmurs, trying to get that last little drop of doubt out of your mind. “You’ll always be mine, and I’ll always take care of you.”

part three

[usedpidemo]

You're a mess (Le sserafim Kazuha)

“Come on! We’re leaving in an hour, so finish packing whatever you’ll bring!” says your mother, fist knocking on the door like a sandbag. With the constant stomping on the stairs, you’d think there’s some kind of construction or renovation happening, but bags are in the process of being moved out slowly. You’re in the process of vacating the house for the beach, at least for a week.

“Yeah, just give me a few!” you yell back, your default line to her at this point, it might as well be your catchphrase. You know that she knows it won’t take a few. As family, it’s all customary, but she never fails to miss giving you a stark reminder, not even once.

Turning from the bedroom door—sealed shut for an extra layer of security, like the movable desk isn’t enough to let anyone in—you look toward your bed, an utter mess with sheets and pillows scattered all over the room. It’s an abominable sight everywhere you look—except for the figure laying on it.

“Gosh, your place is such a damn mess,” says the young girl, auburn hair flowing everywhere like they’re part of the clutter. With how relaxed she looked, she might as well have just woken up, ignoring the part where she’s dressed for a day out in the sun. “I mean, how old are you again?”

“This isn’t the time to joke around, Zuha,” you reply, offended, while you run to the bathroom, then to the closet, then to the three luggages on the opposite end of the room. Objects are carried from one place to another without purpose, without reason. Rinse and repeat. You’re directionless and aimless, like this is your first time experiencing living in such a chaotic environment, when in reality, this setting has molded you to who you are now. 

“Come on, help me gather my things,” you continue, shuffling random items in your hands as if you have no idea what they are or what function they serve, and she promptly obliges. Thanks to Kazuha’s help, what could have been a laborious period of cleaning and packing is completed in less than five minutes. Sure, your grooming kit is packed with your chips and soda cans, and your game console is stored next to your swimming gear, but you can sort that out later when you’re at your destination.

“And that’s about it, really,” you say, giving your girlfriend a high-five for your combined efforts —when really, she carried most of the work for you. Look at the bags you’ve prepared; they’re extremely bloated to the point of bursting open at any given moment.

“You sure about this? I mean, we’re only going to be away for like a week. It’s not like we’re not leaving the country or anything.” Lifting an eyebrow, Kazuha looks at your baggage, then turns to you, pushing her lip out, showing concern.

“Pretty sure I have everything I need!” you blurt out, nodding to her like everything’s fine, but your plastic smile and heightened tone betrays you. Most of your room is cleared of all its litter and items, mostly stowed away in your luggage as your ‘travel essentials.’ In comparison, Kazuha has prepared only one suitcase for clothing and one backpack for her personal belongings.

“Do you travel like this all the time?” she asks, more of a joke rather than an inquiry, knowing you’ll more than likely never use most of these extra possessions. “I mean, your parents only share one luggage—”

“Yeah! I’m gonna have lots of fun, and I have everything I need!” The words leave you as strangely aggressive, and even though you’re beside her, you’re verbally flailing your arms in self-defense. 

“Sure you do,” she replies, as if mumbling to herself, but still audible for you to hear. Then, she looks at her wristwatch. “We still have fifty minutes. I think we could sort out your bags so it doesn’t blow up—”

“What’s wrong with packing everything?” Face her with an upset expression on her face. “I thought you’d be okay with it, too.”

She blushes right as she looks at you, charmed at your uptightness—acting all cute and sweet, knowing how to make anyone go ‘aww’ and give you a free pass for your misdeeds—but she’s not like mom, who falls for your bluff every single time. “You don’t really need most of those, you know?”

“You know, you’re sounding a lot like mom and I don’t like it.” You pout and puff your cheeks in a last ditch effort to soften the potential blow, but she remains firm against you.

Keeping her gaze at your level, she walks over to your inflated baggage. Defensive as you are, you do nothing to stop her from opening one of your bags and clearing most of the burdensome junk inside. 

“Well, I’m not your mother, but I sure as hell am as concerned as she is,” replies your girlfriend, tone showing frustration—a rare expression. She rummages through the second and third bags, filters out all the unnecessary weight surgically like the first, and gathers them together in a garbage bag picked out from your portable desk. As she slides the desk aside to open the bedroom door and eject your garbage from the room, you’re powerless. 

“How long have you been living like this? Even when I’m here, almost every single day?” asks Kazuha, more of a demand and less of a joke as she closes the door behind her. “I should be sick and done with you, but thank your lucky stars I’m not.”

This was her breaking point, and you knew right away. 

If the little details she makes aren’t enough, her words make it oh-so apparent that you fucked up—severely. The slight force exerted when she swings the door open and close, the sharp, intimidating furrow of her brows, and the blunt drop of her words—she’s the sweetest person you know, a parent’s dream child, and the closest thing to an angel in disguise, whose patience borders on infinite, and gentle with everything and everyone. Now here she is, showing the side you’d never want anyone to see, rear her head with disdain and hate toward you. She’s not screaming her lungs out or destroying your room—at least more than you already have—but it breaks your heart watching her turn against you like this.

And it was all completely avoidable, had you been a better person.

You’d happily forego the trip if it means she’s her usual sweet, bright self again. Hell, you’d happily give up anything she asked if the end result was her looking at you fondly once more.

She sits on the edge of your bed—hers now—and takes her phone out from her pocket. You’re never this terrified of opening your mouth to speak to another person, even to your parents. Clear that lump in your throat. The next words you deliver either prolong or kill this relationship.  

“Zuha,” you say, and it comes out as a soft, terrified whisper, barely audible enough to make her notice you dropping her name. As she turns her gaze toward you, there’s still a strong ire behind those striking eyes. She doesn’t respond, doesn’t note (at least you think she doesn’t) the stiffness on your features, your fingers nervously pressing on each other, only looking on coldly as you force your brain to think maturely for once. Sure, she can wait on that mattress all day, but there’s the self-imposed pressure of time weighing on your head, as if it’s telling you, “If you don't fix it now, it will be ruined forever.”

In theory, it should be so easy. The words are right there, firmly indented on the tip of your tongue, ready to let go when you are; you just have to say them. But then, there’s a few variables that make you hesitant: your sincerity, your expression, your tone. What should be a simple apology becomes an intense, thorough examination of human psychology, and you never prepared for it. 

Still, it doesn’t hurt to try, and you’ll have to live with the consequences, one way or another.

“I’m sorry.”

She lifts an eyebrow, her eyes slowly widening with surprise. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t hold your stare at her any longer because of shame, and tears are beginning to form on your eyes. It feels as if the light has been removed from you, and you don’t deserve to look at someone as angelic as her. She’s been sweet for the longest time, you’ve taken her kindness and patience for granted. Even worse, she’s younger than you, the only child in her family compared to you and your three siblings, yet she’s shown more maturity than you, with every resource and advantage handed to you on a silver spoon.

“Gosh, Zuha, you’re right. Why are you still here? I hate that you’re my girl, because you deserve way better than this. I know Kirin’s gonna give you that ‘I told you so’ comment when she finds out you had to clean out my damn room. No wonder I’m alone and I have no friends. I’m an irredeemable mess.”

You’re angry—not at her, but at yourself. Only now do you truly realize how deep of a pit you’ve dug yourself in. Even your parents couldn’t get you to open up like this. Maybe this is the way to make things right, but you’re certain she’ll be gone from your life at the top of the hour, no matter how much you cry and beg.

“I don’t care anymore. Leave.” You point your finger at the door, ashamed to show your grief-stricken face to her. It should have been a fun time for you both to strengthen your bonds, but it looks like you’ll be spending it contemplating and loathing in your sadness and weaknesses.

As you grab your fixed bags, you feel a gentle arm on your back. Turn around and she’s right behind you—smiling. 

“I’m not going to leave you,” she says, tenderly, spinning you around then wrapping you in her arms, tugging you close. 

Your cheeks burn a fiery red, caught unawares by her sudden affection. “What?” 

“You’re a mess,” chides Kazuha, pulling you closer to her warmth. Her grin has grown as wide as her unending love. “But you’re my mess. You think I’ll break-up with you because of something as small as this? Gosh, why are you so overdramatic?”

It’s difficult to take it all in: the lowest lows to highest highs in a matter of minutes, especially when she’s peppering your face with a flurry of intimate kisses, and all of a sudden, you’re falling together on the bed, then she’s on top of you a moment later, but there’s still a lesson to be learned—at least you’ll save it for another day.

“Thirty minutes before we leave!” yells mom from the floor below, mildly sounding. Kazuha withdraws her face from yours, looks behind, checks the locked door once, then twice for good measure. Your hands are gripped on her back, past her denim jacket, and glued to her creamy skin. 

“We should save it when we’re there,” you say, slightly lifting your head for a glance at the door, expressing worry. “I mean, we’re already showered and all—”

“Don’t care. I want it now.” Kazuha pins you back onto the sheets again, showers you with another round of loving pecks until she lands a passionate, deep one directly on your lips. Her hands are all over you, caressing your hair, down to your neck, on the fabric of your shirt. With nails so sharp, they can dig through your material and draw blood. You can’t really contend, not when you’re beneath her grip, and she can easily toss you around with her surprising level of strength.

A simple apology isn’t enough, and this is a form of compensation or penance, at least you think it is. You sink further into her kiss, hook your fingers on the hem of her denim jacket like hers on your clothes. The bed gently rumbles underneath you as she playfully rocks you while making out. She’s deeply engrossed in the smooch, like your lips are her primary source of life, and she’s determined to make sure anyone who sees knows who it belongs to. 

Eventually, she does pull back, and you exchange a shedding of clothes. Kazuha lifts your shirt over her head, tosses it onto the floor to be completely forgotten. You do the same with her blue jacket; slide it down her shoulders to join your garment off the bed. Afterward, your eyes meet hers in an intimate, loving gaze. There’s less than half an hour on the clock before you have to leave, and you’re both aware of that, but when her angelic eyes are on yours, as if the light has returned to shine on you, time is the least of your concern.

Her lips press and stain yours, sealing its complete ownership to her. Then she marks you down to your jawline, neck, your bare chest, and belly, in that order, etching strawberry colored lipstick stains on your skin. With her face settling at the edge of your pants, her eyes snap wide at how close she is to your growing tent. So she looks at you, breathing tensely and faint from her love, waiting for your approval. Her smile is so innocent, so charming—a contrast to the eroticness slowly building up—that you can’t deny her request.

How could you say no to a woman with a sweet face like hers?

At the drop of your first nod, her fingers immediately seize your zipper and effortlessly slides it down, dragging your boxers along. Your erection springs up, and her eyes alight with awe, like it’s the first time she’s seen your cock. Slightly you lift your head up, only to be knocked back down to earth when she grabs your shaft with her hand, as if crushing you like a can. 

Uttering a low, breathy groan, you mumble out, “Shit Z-Zuha, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“I know,” she says, that sweet, loving smile glazed on her features, loosening her grip on your cock a little, stroking you at a steady pace. “Just give me a minute.”

What should be a quick minute lasts a lot longer than you imagine. Your airy, prolonged sighs, mixed with the occasional gentle drop of her name are the only sounds that break the stillness radiating throughout the bedroom while Kazuha casually pumps you, forcing quick bursts of precum to spill onto her tender, but firm digits. It’s still relatively early in the day, and you haven’t had lunch yet, but you’re falling dizzier and dizzier, as if you’ve been directly under the hot sun for hours. 

“Here I come,” she says, releasing your shaft from her hand. You hear her loud and clear, but you’re left spiraling from pleasure. She briefly hops off the bed to shed her jeans and underwear before she climbs atop you again. On her lips is a soft smile, suppressing a quiet giggle as you look weak beneath her. 

Kazuha plants a kiss on your temple. It’s soft, but almost emphatic enough to lull you to sleep. Lining herself directly above your erection, her tunnel brushes against your tip, and you both shudder at the slightest touch of each other. Slowly but surely, she lowers her hips down, and you’re lying helplessly, watching as your length gradually disappears inside her. You’re not checking the time, and although her hands are pressed on your torso, you couldn’t waste another second without her pussy folded to your cock. 

Completely impaled to your base, her eyes go shut, and her mouth hangs open, releasing a whiny expletive while her nails dig into your skin. Your eyes briefly go out as well, only to snap open at the mild, audible racket from the ground floor. Your relationship is openly supported by your family and hers, but they definitely won’t approve of this stage—at least not yet. 

“Zuha,” you groan, fighting off the surge of pleasure from her suffocating pussy flexing on your cock. “We gotta stay—”

“Shhhhh.” Kazuha rasps, hinting a little hostility, shuffles a finger toward your lips while she acclimates to your hardness. She’s still soft-sounding, as always, but when it comes to sex, she transforms into completely different person, and it always catches you off-guard. “God, you’re stretching me out.”

Your family is still busy packing downstairs, as proven by the constant slam of the front door and luggage wheels rolling around. It’s a loud commotion, enough to block her whiny, lewd moans from detection. She’s atop you, using you as a toy and a conduit for her pleasure, and you’re on the opposite end, with the last of your will denying her, when you’ve been in the wrong—until now. So you finally give her control, and she kindly does to you in return. You’re connected by two pairs of hands placed on the other’s body: hers pressed on your chest as support, and yours on her slender, toned midriff that puts you to shame most of the time. 

Her hips roll up and down at a slow and steady tempo, delicate and purposeful in stretching herself out with your entire length. She bites her lip, trying to repress her bliss; the immense wave of pleasure she feels with each drop onto your waist makes her scream. Even with the gradual roughness in her movements when it comes to riding you, she’s still graceful, mesmerizing, and hypnotizing, down to her soft, passionate expressions.

“Yes, yes, fuck that feels so good,” she says, tossing her head back gently, lifting her sleeveless shirt over her head within seconds, leaving her as naked as you. Your gaze is magnetized to her newly exposed chest, with her round, compact breasts with their stiff nipples attracting every bit of your attention. It’s only temporary, as she lifts herself before going down on you again, and you share a collective groan of bliss, with your eyes going dark. “I want this cock inside me all day long, that’s how good you fucking feel.”

Her fingers press back down to those familiar deep marks on your chest, still riding you at her tempo, like she’s got you on cruise control. She was always a slow love maker, always preferring the sex to be steady and drawn out, but if they weren’t always the best kind. At this point, you’re certain you’ll be left behind and forgotten, and she’ll still be grinding on you until the sun goes down, but you can’t deny how incredible how suffocating and wet her pussy feels, coating your cock liberally with her wet juices. 

With your hands sliding down her arched back, you meet her halfway, reciprocating each slam of her hips with an upstroke of your cock. Your senses take in everything right in front of you: her constantly changing but still pleasure-ridden face, the endless stream of moans with profanities laced in between, and the steady sound of her ass slapping on your shaft. There’s little to make her change her mind, especially when she’s so into it, so into the act, that you might as well forget about leaving and prepare to stay home when she’s finally done with you.

“We’re almost leaving! Fifteen minutes!” shouts your dad from the ground floor, a timely distraction from the otherwise excessive pleasure drowning you. It doesn’t affect Kazuha in the slightest, and if anything, only seems to arouse and motivate her to do the opposite by firmly pressing you deeper onto your bed as it trembles with your erotic motions. Your bags are still in your room, and the sounds below are dying down, and so will your secret if you don’t keep track of the time.

“Zuha—” you try to blurt, only to be met with her familiar index finger blocking the passage between your lips. She refuses to stop until she’s filled to the brim, and she’ll get hers no matter what. Her eyes snap open, looks at the panicked expression on your face, then to the arms wrapped around her back. With her hand, she leads yours down to her supple, plump ass before planting a kiss on the bridge of your nose.

“I know,” she says, with a flattering, but charming and innocuous grin. She raises her hips and slams them down, makes you grunt sharply while keeping that cheeky smile on her face. She knows. She doesn’t want to. She has no intention to.

Even if she doesn’t outright say it, she’s practically forcing you into submission. Looks are so deceiving, yet you fall for her every single time—and with a cute, endearing face and personality like hers, why wouldn’t you?

The growing thumps on the stairs draw both your gazes to the bedroom door, and your heart is beating wildly from a mix of stress and pleasure. Your thoughts return to the bags placed on the side of the bed—reminder of the short time you have left—and you’re slapping yourself internally for not stopping her before it spiraled out of control. Then there’s Kazuha, bouncing and fucking herself on your cock, purposefully moaning with rising cadence in an act of defiance, going against everything you’ve thought about her. 

“So—close,” she purrs, toying with your chest, giving it playful slaps, as her barely coherent words quickly fall by the wayside, returning to whines and needy mewls. Her urgency to release breaks her control, and her pace quickens; she’s crashing herself onto your cock, foregoing the slow, comfortable grind she’s natural with to chase that high a stone’s throw away. 

Kazuha’s orgasm takes you suddenly, and her sweat filled face, once a realm higher than you, is suddenly inches apart from yours. Her body shudders and trembles, every muscle and nerve in her tensing up from such a powerful climax. The vicious grip of her sopping cunt, freshly drenched with waves of slick, drives you close to breaking point as well, intent on pumping all your hot, creamy seed into her. 

She continues to moan and spew curses, albeit in decreasing tones, as her hips slow down, until her limber, slim figure falls right into your hands, quivering as her orgasm dies down. Realizing her hold on you has gone nonexistent, you muster up the strength to lift yourself off the bed. Ignore the puddle that has formed on the sheets. With a worn out Kazuha in your arms, you bring her with you to the other room, slamming it shut and locking the door once you’re inside.

“We’re almost leaving, you two! Hurry up!” says your dad as he takes the remaining luggage in front of your bedroom before going down the steps again. He remains seemingly naive to your sinful act performed behind closed doors, suppressed behind another layer of defense: your bathroom. You’re supposed to be cleaning up, but here you are, dirtying up your house even more.

“Yeah! We’re coming!” you yell out from inside the shower, briefly looking behind as you pump your hard cock frantically inside Kazuha’s tight walls. It’s a familiar but different position compared to the bed. Her slender legs are wrapped around your waist, and your cock is still buried deeply inside her, but you’re carrying her in your arms this time around, and you’re dictating the pace as you fuck your girlfriend into further submission, insistent to get one off in her before leaving. 

Five minutes before the start of a new hour, your soaked watch tells. Forget it. You need yours too. 

Fortunately, he doesn’t hear your girlfriend and the lewd, arousing way she says your name as you pound her at her most sensitive spots, even as it bounces off the bathroom walls. Sure, there’s also that shower raining down both your naked, sweaty bodies as additional blockage, but even the sound of her flesh slapping against yours is loud enough to cause suspicion from a wary member. Nevertheless, it doesn’t deter you from using Kazuha to your liking, without care for her comfort or her pleasure, only focused on indulging in her rapturous, silky heat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries in your ear, resorting to the most common word available to express her sexual arousal and elation. Her hands dig into your nape and your soaked hair, practically clinging to you as her life support. The way you both fucked each other was completely different, but this hits harder for her, and it accelerates her second climax ahead of yours. “Fuck—gonna—ah!”

Kazuha utters another sharp, deafening cry as you bring her back up to that high again. By some miracle, you don’t let the wetness make you slip; it only spurs you on. Pin her against the wall, still fucking her hard through her orgasm, resolute on setting yours off. Your soft mouth grows some fangs, marks her sensitive collarbone with a fresh, sore red coat. This is your way of getting back at her in the most subtle way—and possibly the least, with how strident she sounds.

She manages to gain the strength to forcefully turn your gaze to hers, trying to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, but you’re still thrusting in her, unwilling to turn down the roughness. The butterflies in your stomach grow with every agonizing second. You’re so fucking close, so ready to finally let go—

After the constant shaking of her tight figure, she recaptures you for another intimate kiss, and it’s what ultimately sets you off. Your tongue slips into her mouth as you give in, groaning in her as you release thick ropes of cum in succession. Penetrating her depths, you fill her with every drop of your seed, draining yourself empty inside her thirsty, greedy cunt.

“So warm. So full,” she mumbles, giving your lips a soft peck in appreciation as you come down from that euphoric, heavenly high. 

You slump against the wall, going through post-orgasm exhaustion, with Kazuha still in your clutch. The noises that previously filled the bathroom are overtaken by the continuous, rushing flow of shower water, with your deep, heavy breaths in second place. Breaking the kiss, you rest your head against her reddened collarbone, having forgotten the urgency of time—and ignoring the incessant knocking on your bedroom door and shouting of your parents echoing beyond two layers of walls. 

“Do you think they know?” she asks, clingy and shuddering but satiated.

Looking over your shoulder as the barrage of demanding, door breaking knocks continues, you chuckle. “I don’t think so.”

(A/N: Another fluffy-ish one, and Kazuha looks like one of the softest girls ever, so she deserves the fluff treatment. This was supposed to be another lengthy one-shot with way more story, but I was really fixated on one specific scene, which is what resulted in this fic. Next one's gonna be very story based, for sure ;) Thank you for reading!)

[starleska]

a non-exhaustive guide to writing the Toymaker's fake German accent (or, how RTD broke the German language so effectively) 🔥

hello everyone!!! 🥰 after a tremendous response to my Toymaker x Reader fic 'Dollface', lots of you reached out for some advice on writing the Toymaker's dialogue: specifically his faux-German accent 👀 now i am by no means an authority, but i do love figuring out unusual character voices and the 'rules' they follow while speaking! so i've put together this non-exhaustive guide on my logic for writing the Toymaker's fake German, based on the snippet of script we have, Neil Patrick Harris' delivery in The Giggle, a never-used linguistics degree and a few years of German lessons 😂 do take these 'rules' with a grain of salt; there is no right or wrong way to write the Toymaker, or any character for that matter! however, my autistic self had a lot of fun writing this, and i hope it gives you some useful pointers if you're struggling with how to write that horrible entity's butchering of the German language 🙈 as the Toymaker would say: 'Zey are very, very, importanten, zese rules, don't you sink?' 😉

consonant sounds (part one) 🧡

as you can see above, Russell T Davies wrote the script of 'The Giggle' so Neil Patrick Harris would sound 'German' in a very specific way. one way he did this is by replacing consonants. consonants are the opposite of vowels (a, e, i, o, u, and sometimes y), and are made by obstructing breath while speaking. by comparison, vowels are made by speaking without this vocal obstruction!

the way we pronounce words varies between accents. the Toymaker's faux-German accent is a stereotype of how speakers with German as their mother tongue may pronounce English. as such, having a general knowledge of German pronunciation makes writing the Toymaker's accent easier!

for the Toymaker, this means that consonant sounds like [w] (the 'w' in 'win') becomes [v] (the 'v' in 'violet'). this is common for German pronunciation ✨

in certain instances, the Toymaker will also flip pronunciation and change [d] (the 'd' in 'day') to [t] (the 't' in 'time'), which is why he calls Donna 'Tonna'.

likewise, sometimes the consonant digraph (two consonants forming a single sound) [ð] (the 'th' sound in 'the') becomes [ɗ] (the 'd' sound in 'dog'). this is how you end up with 'dee' instead of 'the'! however, sometimes [ð] becomes [z] (the 'z' sound in 'zebra'). this is how you end up with 'zey' instead of 'they', and 'zis' instead of 'this'! 🔥 (note: the Toymaker jumps around between these pronunciations, so you can use both!)

consonant sounds (part two) 💛

on occasion, the Toymaker will also substitute [ð] for an entirely different sound: [s] (the 's' sound is 'sun'). this transforms 'think' into 'sink'! likewise, the Toymaker will sometimes change [ŋ] (the 'ng' sound in 'sing') to [k] (the 'k' sound in 'kind'). combining the two, this makes the word 'everything' into 'everysink'!

putting all of this together, we can Toymakerify pronunciations! the sentence 'They were everything to me' becomes 'Zey vere everysink to me.'

now, the Toymaker's accent is inconsistent: in the above picture you can see a rule being broken by writing out 'everything' as 'everysing' rather than 'everysink'. don't be afraid to be loose with it - remember, this isn't the Toymaker's real accent, and he slips up too (especially when he forgets himself) 🤭

vowel sounds 💚

as i don't have access to the full script, i am unsure how often the vowel sounds are written out compared to the consonant sounds. however, we can see a few sounds being exaggerated in a stereotypically German fashion: the [ʌ] (the 'uh' in 'cup') becomes [uː] (the 'oo' in 'tool'), transforming 'beautiful' into 'beautifool'. likewise, the [ə] sound in 'the' becomes elongated into [i], transforming 'the' into 'thee' (or, with the consonant rules, 'dee').

verbs 💙

one of the silliest aspects of the Toymaker's accent is his tendency to add the '-ge' prefix to verbs (action/doing words). this means a word like 'learning' becomes 'ge-learning', and 'want' becomes 'ge-want' (or 'ge-vont' if we add in the consonant rules) 🙈

depending on your preference, sometimes the Toymaker adds an additional 's' to the end of these verbs! so 'learning' not only becomes 'ge-learning': it can become 'ge-learnings'!

sometimes the Toymaker also supplements his verbs with auxiliary verbs, specifically 'be'. you can see this in his construction: 'What is he being inventing now?' the 'being' doesn't need to be there!

however, the Toymaker isn't consistent with either of these rules. in particular with the '-ge' prefix, he will usually only use this once per sentence. try not to overload your sentences with too many of these rules: remember that he still needs to be understandable! ⚡

plurals 💜

some German plurals (multiples of a thing) are created using the '-en' suffix: for instance, 'die Frau' ('the woman') becomes 'die Frauen' ('the women'). this is why the Toymaker frequently changes the English plural suffix '-s' or -'es' (as in 'cats' and 'boxes') to '-en'!

this makes 'snakes' into 'snaken', 'hobbyhorses' into 'hobbyhorsen', and 'dolls' into 'dollen'. silly, yet effective 😂

adjectives 🤎

surprise!!! the Toymaker doesn't just add the -en suffix to plurals...he also adds '-en' indiscriminately to adjectives (describing words) 🙈 words like 'important' become 'importanten', and 'favourite' becomes 'favouriten'!

the key to this rule is that the original word must be intact after adding '-en'. for instance: 'balden' would work for 'bald', but 'clouden' wouldn't work for 'cloudy', because it replaces a vital sound! because we only have a couple of examples of him using this rule, this is the best way i've figured out how to use it without making his speech sound overburdened or clunky 💖

experiment with this rule however you like!!! here's some fun Toymakerisms i've just come up with: 'plumpen' for 'plump', 'squaren' for 'square', and 'coolen' for 'cool'. 😉

random usage of real German words (part one) 🖤

something which makes the Toymaker's fake German so effective is how liberally he sprinkles in real German words into his speech. the majority of these words are common ones which are recognisable to most English speakers, and include conjunctions and pronouns. here are a few German words that the Toymaker canonically uses:

mit - with | und - and | ja - yes | wunderbar - wonderful | nein - no | das - that | guten Tag - good day | ein - a (remember that in German it would be ein or eine for masculine vs feminine, but the Toymaker doesn't make this distinction!) | mein - my (same as ein - it would be mein or meine, but he seems to only use meine as an accented thing rather than referring to gendered nouns!).

random usage of real German words (part two) 💖

every now and again, the Toymaker will use a random German noun: for instance, 'Straße' for 'street', or 'Achtung!' for 'danger!'.

however, the Toymaker also uses real German words/phrases in the incorrect context. for instance, when the Toymaker screams, 'BACKEN SIE!', a non-German speaker might take this to mean 'GET BACK!', when it actually means 'BAKE THEM!' 😂 the golden rule is for the Toymaker's speech to sound German at all costs, not for it to be linguistically accurate!

RTD also writes out words like 'come' as 'komm', referencing the German word 'kommen'. adding in a little German spelling goes a long way to replicating his accent when written down!

when writing the Toymaker, i chose to expand on this pseudo-German by including additional words to 'Germanify' his speech: for instance, using 'ist' for 'is' and 'hast' for 'have'. i also add in other general phrases, such as 'Herzlichen Glückwunsch' for 'congratulations!'. if you have a general knowledge of German, you can play around with the Toymaker's speech this way 😉

onomatopoeia and reduplication ✨

part of the charm of the Toymaker's terrible German accent is how musical and inviting it seems. a really cute tendency of his is to use onomatopoeia (words which sound like what they are) and reduplication (the repetition of sounds in a set) together. examples of this are 'splishy-splashy' and 'clippety-clop'! 🥺

onomatopoeia adds a sensory dimension to the Toymaker's speech, and reduplication is most often associated with baby-talk and children. in this way, the Toymaker's speech is playful and childish, and lures you into his performance.

this is why in 'Dollface', i chose to have the Toymaker vocalise 'Choo-choo!' for the train, and to describe his dolls as 'ge-having ein chitter-chatter.' add a touch of this here and there, and it helps to demonstrate the Toymaker's playful nature 🥰

grammar 💀

thankfully for us, the Toymaker's grammatical constructions are largely unchanged from English! this is because the Toymaker's faux-German is supposed to evoke German while still being understandable. his language isn't a real representation of a German speaker speaking English: it's a pantomime version! 🔥

general ideas/tips 🧸

if you're struggling with writing the Toymaker's German accent, try writing it out in non-accented English first! it's a lot easier to think of how to 'Germanify' English which already exists then coming up with it on the fly (although that will get easier the more you do it 😉).

try not to overburden your sentences with too many of these rules!! it is easy to think that pouring as many Germanisms as possible into the Toymaker's speech will just make him sound like himself, but this might break the reader's immersion. trust that sometimes less is more - especially if you are going to be writing the Toymaker accent-switching.

have fun!! don't worry about these ideas too much - you're writing fic, not a dissertation 💖 the Toymaker's whole deal is being playful and engaging in games - he isn't even following his own bloody rules!! just enjoy the process - you can always add more to his speech later 🔥

that's all for now!!! use this silly little guide however you like 🥰💖 godspeed in writing your Toymaker fics - i do hope this helps a bit. and shout-out to all the lovely fluent German speakers who have reacted with both humour and horror to the Toymaker's faux-German (including in my own writing) 😂

[scribeofwinchesters]

Secrets and Lies: Chapter 12 - Absolution

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 5,280

Summary: “I can’t change what I did and truly all I want is your forgiveness. Not absolution–or–or salvation… Just… forgiveness.”

Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con

Previous chapters:  One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten Eleven

A/N: I hope you all like this chapter and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are always welcome <3 Alsooo don't worry. This is not the end. I felt like this seemed like an ending so I wanted to be clear. I feel like I've been giving y'all blue balls so don't worry, we're gonna get our smut on real soon, folks! ;) Most likely the next part will also wrap everything up and will be the last part but I'm already working on a new sam x reader fic that takes place at the beginning of s.10 but is a continuation of the same relationship that is present in all my fics.

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa @dottirose

When you first woke sometime later, you continued to drift in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours. You were faintly aware of Sam’s presence on the other side of you–your feet tangled with his legs as he curved around you. But the meds Dean gave you were strong and continued to pull you back down into unconsciousness. 

In the hazy moments of awareness, you could hear Sam and Dean talking quietly to each other. Their voices lulled you back into a comforted sleep. Another moment, despite your back to him, you could feel Sam sitting back against the headboard, reading. Each rustle of the pages turning was a quiet thrill that made you smile unconsciously in your sleep, even more so when he began using his free hand to casually caress figure eights onto your back.

Sometime after that, you found Sam alongside you, over the blankets but still snuggled against you, his flanneled arm draped over you. He’d laced fingers with yours and held your hand over your heart. You felt him nuzzle his nose into your hair and inhale deeply before gently pressing his lips to the crown of your head. This, combined with the sun shining in from the window by the door and your desperate thirst, was enough to finally push you fully into consciousness. 

The ice bag rested heavily on top of your cheek and was as cold as ever. Dean must have made a fresh one. 

You whined softly as you stretched your legs and let out a yawn. Instinctively, you moved your arms and Sam withdrew his, allowing you to stretch them out in front of you, noticing with each shift the aches in parts of you that you didn’t even know could ache. Your lungs felt bruised, somehow, from the strain the shifter had put on them in its attempt to suffocate you. The large bruises on the back of your arms, your waist, and your thighs where it had coiled itself tightly around you pulsed out painful reminders.

You turned over, taking the ice bag with you, and nestled it between your cheek and the pillow. Each movement brought on more frustration, stirring you further from your sleep as you wrestled with your appendages in a vain attempt to settle into a position that didn’t hurt.. Grasping the top sheet in your fingers, you pulled your hands together and rested them beneath your chin.

You blinked slowly as your eyes adjusted to the light.

Sam was right there, watching you. His face lit up as your eyes settled on his. His shaggy, brown hair was tucked behind his ears and he was dressed in jeans and an old grey and blue flannel. You took stock of the bandages on his neck and cheek and chin and wondered how many more there were that you couldn’t see.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” you croaked. A beat passed before you painfully cleared your throat and asked, “When was the last time you laid in bed this late?” 

Sam smirked as he thought about it for a moment. “Laid in bed with you, like this? At three in the afternoon? Hmm…,” his eyes narrowed on you as he thought. “Probably a few months… Was it New Year's Day? … Certainly not often enough.”

Your heart raced and you took as deep a breath as you could manage. Sam wouldn’t be talking to you like this if he hadn’t decided to stay, right?

“New resolution: stay in bed more,” you rasped with a careful smile before a tiny cough caught in your throat and you pulled the sheet over your mouth as you let it out.

“I can get on board with that,” Sam said grinning broadly as he climbed off the bed and made his way around. He grabbed the full cup from the nightstand as you carefully pulled yourself back to rest against the headboard. A groan or a hiss escaped your lips with each painful movement. Sam leaned over you, careful not to spill the water, and adjusted the pillow behind your back before moving the ice bag to the nightstand. He crouched down and handed you the cup which you drank down in seconds, stopping once to cover a painful cough. 

Sam’s brow furrowed as he tried to force his concerned frown into a smile. He grabbed Dean’s steel water container and refilled your cup as you held it out for him. Once he was sure you weren’t going to chug the second cup as well, he joined you back on the bed. This time he sat with his legs crossed under him and faced you. 

You glanced around the room. “Dean?”

“Supply run,” Sam said. You nodded before taking a sip of water. He watched you for several long moments before looking away, as if steeling his nerves. He took a deep breath and when he turned back you saw that his eyes were glistening again, like last night, and you were back in that old place, the place where your heart ached and begged to stop all of his pain and guilt and regret and longed to remind him how worthy and caring and honorable he was and how all the bullshit he’d endured wasn’t on him...

You took another sip and closed that door in your mind. You weren’t sure Sam still wanted you to take care of him in that way and until you were, that wasn’t a weight you could take on… not right now.

“Y/n… I’m so-” 

“I’m okay, Sam,” you said, cutting him off. The corners of your lips twitched up into your best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Dean stopped it. I’m still here. You’re still here. Everything’s okay.” 

Okay, so maybe that door didn’t close so easily…

“Please, y/n, just let me say this,” he said before inhaling sharply. “I— I never should have left.” 

You shook your head at him. “Please don’t do that.”

“What?”

“We both know by now that shit just happens and all any of us can do is be there to help pick up the pieces, maybe stop it if we’re lucky. We’re not always going to be lucky,” you shrugged. “So don’t act like you should have done something–like you could have done something… because clearly, life doesn’t work that way.” 

Sam swallowed hard and looked away from you. “I never should have taken that damn case. I should have given it to Dean. I should have come straight home,” he muttered. 

“Sam,” you said before biting anxiously at your bottom lip. The thing that had been gnawing at the edge of your thoughts was finally ready to bubble out. “Look, I know this has thrown a wrench in your, uh, plans. I still mean what I said the other night–if you’re not ready to come back, don’t do it just because of–because of all this. I’ll be okay for a bit. Awhile even. If you have any doubts… about–about us–I need you to deal with them before you–if you decide to…” You stumbled over your words and took a sharp breath, ready to push past the one word you couldn’t get your mouth to utter. “if you can– if you can forgive me.” 

Sam dragged his hand down his face as the tears started to slip down his cheeks. He pinched his bottom lip anxiously like he did when research was beginning to fail him. Normally, when you caught him doing that, you’d walk up behind him and pull his hands into yours as you leaned over and pecked little kisses down the side of his face until you found his lips, and–still grasping his hand in yours–tilted his face up and pressed your lips to his, taking a long, silent moment before opening your mouth to him and slipping your tongue gently and momentarily between his lips. Your breath turned shallow from the memories and you quickly wiped away a tear as you wondered how you’d ever be able to keep yourself from him. 

Sam stared up at the ceiling a moment before looking back and studying you for a long moment. His brows knit together and suddenly he leaned toward you and pulled you into his arms as he lifted you with an almost disconcerting ease. You fought through the ache in your muscles as you shifted your legs and nestled yourself around his hips before resting your chin on his shoulder and encircling him in your arms. He slowly caressed his fingers up and down your back.

“Sam…,” you said softly against his ear, your chin pushing into his shoulder as you spoke. 

“You know… when I was out in the woods, setting up my tent, hiking the trails, just trying to clear my mind–that plan completely backfired. All I could think about was you. I watched the creeks flowing, saw little pools of minnows and frogs and swimming ducks and I thought of you and how much you’d love it. I saw an owl up high in a tree and I wished I could show you. I watched the sunset and I wished you were there holding my hand, telling me what the colors reminded you of. I stared up at the stars and I swear I saw your face. The moon was a beautiful, clear, perfect crescent–just like you always love to point out to me when you see it. You were everywhere. It was so much that I almost prayed to Cass, sure that he was doing this to me on purpose. But I knew better. It wasn’t Cass or any other magic. It was just… you. My love for you.” 

Your heart caught in your throat and tears streamed down your cheeks as he spoke. You pulled your chin down to the fabric above his clavicle and pressed a kiss into him as you shifted your grip on your forearm, squeezing him tighter as your tears dripped onto Sam’s back. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I debated calling you–debated if I should just pack up and drive back home to you. Then I got news from a hunter about a case close to home and decided I could wrap it up quick and be home in a couple of days and that way you’d still get your space–in case you needed it now–after–after the way I’d treated you that night.” 

“Sam,” you said, whispering his name again. That wasn’t your favorite memory but you didn’t want it to be something he berated himself for forever.

“I know, just let me finish. I need to say this.” 

You loosened your embrace on him and trailed your fingers up his neck, unintentionally eliciting a soft gasp from him at your touch. Your fingers found your target as you brushed them–opened and closed–around his crown, gliding slowly through his hair. His chest, pressed to you, fell and rose shallower now. 

“Oh my god… you're making this… more difficult than I imagined,” he said, his voice strained.  

“Sorry,” you said, the small smile evident in your tone. “It’s just… this last week has been incredibly–excessively–unbearably shitty and I needed you so bad–not needed you, needed you–just–you know–needed you. Dean did his best–the best friend I could ever ask for–but when you hold me–I feel… healed… salvageable… I’m not-”

“Shh…,” Sam soothed you as he gripped your shoulders and pulled you away from him so that he could look into your eyes. “I’m here and I got you and I’m not going anywhere. Now, listen to me. Of course I forgive you, okay? I forgive you a million times over. Tell me you’d make the same choice again and again and I’ll say, ‘Yes, do it’. Tell me you need to wipe my mind again right now and I’ll say, ‘Please’ without giving it another thought. If you made a call then it was the right one. Full stop. I know you, and you know me,” he said, squeezing your shoulders before letting go and cupping either side of your face in his wide palms, ensuring you couldn’t look away from him as he spoke but careful to avoid the laceration on your cheek.

“It took me a little bit to sort through the memories of that night after Cass gave them back to me. At first all I could see was you–bloody, screaming in agony as I lifted you–I woke up hearing that scream in my nightmares, y/n… but then, there it was, a thought that prickled at the back of my mind as I held you so still that my arms were cramping–you didn’t deserve this life and Dean and I were monsters for pulling you into it–for keeping you in it. This is why we don’t do attachments in this life. It’s not safe. And loving me was going to be the death of you.” 

You shook your head and he let go of you, dropping his hands to find yours, weaving each finger with his.

“You were right, y/n,” he said. “Don’t you see? You were right.” 

“No, Sam,” you said, still shaking your head. “Don’t do that. I was wrong, okay? My choices were wrong. I can’t change what I did and truly all I want is your forgiveness. Not absolution–or–or salvation… Just… forgiveness.

Sam closed his eyes and was silent for several long seconds as your words washed over him. Finally, he whispered, “I love you,” and leaned forward to press his lips chastely against yours before he pulled back just enough for his heavy breath to warm your skin. “Is this okay?” he asked. 

You paused, surprised at yourself for not immediately responding, ‘yes’. And realized you were not sure what to make of it, of him. And his beautiful words were too much. It was all overwhelming.

“Y/n?”

“I’m so sorry,” you said as you dropped your head into your hands and squeezed your eyes shut. Fresh tears dripped into your palms as you quietly sobbed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me–I know you’re Sam. You are Sam. You are my Sam. And I adore you, too. You know that, right?” you asked. “I can’t find all the words right now to convey it the way you did. I’m so–it’s just been a–a shitty fucking week,” you said as you lifted your red, blotchy face up to look at him and took in several slow, deep breaths. 

Sam’s eyes widened with concern and you saw his chest rise and fall rapidly with panicked breaths. “I do–I do know that,” he said as fresh tears misted his eyes. You could see he wanted to comfort you, to hold you, but he wasn’t sure anymore if that was right, so he pulled himself away. 

Your tears came harder then and you gripped the comforter into a ball. You were furious, you wanted to scream out in anguish. You wanted to stop. fucking. crying. But you couldn’t. It all just spilled out and all you wanted was for Sam to wrap you in a hug and hold you and kiss your forehead and stroke your back, but there was another part of you that wanted him to stay away from you–to leave you the fuck alone. 

You felt like you were being torn in two and it was an emotional agony that paled in comparison to what you felt the night you and Sam fought or even the misery of the days after. You stood and fumbled around your boots and clothing, looking for your phone. Sam’s voice sounded like it was being carried over a pool of water that sat above you as he called your name. You ignored him. You found your phone on the nightstand, no doubt plugged in and charged thanks to the ever thoughtful Sam, and made your way to the bathroom where you shut the door behind you, too scared to look back at him. It broke your heart to imagine his expression upon hearing the soft click of the lock but you did it all the same.

You turned the cold knob on the sink and tried to focus on the sound of the rushing water as you cupped your hands under the stream and watched the water rush across your skin in airy streams. It was cool and calming and you splashed several handfuls over your face before patting it dry with the hand towel, careful of your cut. 

You unlocked your phone and called Dean. 

“Y/n?” Dean asked as he answered the phone before the first ring had even finished.

“Dean?” 

“You good?”

“I, uh–yeah, I’m good,” you lied. 

Dean could hear the congestion in your voice and knew you’d been crying. 

In an instant his tone turned gravelly and flat. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just, um, I know it’s Sam but–I don’t know why but I suddenly wasn’t so sure–but that doesn’t make sense because I do know–I do know that’s Sam,” you choked back your tears and swallowed hard. “He–I just…,” you trailed off. There was a silence between you for a moment.

“Y/n, the shifter’s dead, okay? I killed it. And I just got the other one into the trunk so we can burn it, too. I’ll be there in ten but in the meantime, I’m sure Sam won’t mind if you have to test him again to be sure, okay, kiddo?” 

You nodded to yourself. “Okay,” you whispered before sniffing and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

“Deep breaths,” Dean reminded you. 

You took a deep breath and winced at the sharp pain in your lungs as you inhaled.

“Sorry,” you said as a guilty tear spilled down your cheek.

“Don’t be. I’ll stay on the phone with you ‘til I’m back,” he said.

You took another deep breath and counted to five before letting it out and counted to five again as you exhaled, ignoring the pain. 

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay, Dean,” you said as you hung up the phone before he could counter you.

You glanced in the mirror for the first time since you weren’t even sure when. Your hair was a crazy, tangled mess and your face was stamped with a bright splotch of red across your cheek, an almost perfect handprint. The two butterfly closures held the broken skin together. There was a big, dark bruise forming beneath your eye, above the cut. The shifter really had hit you as hard as it could, which was saying something for a monster. You quickly brushed through your hair with your fingers and pulled it into a manageable but loose bun. You turned to face the door and shut your eyes as you gently shook your whole self, before slowly opening the door. Sam sat at the edge of the bed, waiting quietly as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“You scared me,” he murmured as he looked up at you.

“Sorry,” you said as you hesitated in the doorway. “I know you’re not…,” you trailed off and took a slow step toward him.  “Your whole being–your whole presence is the opposite of it so I know you’re not–but for a second a part of me was there again and–well, without Dean here–I’m sorry. Not that you–” you said, fumbling over your words before Sam cut you off.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Sam said. “I know exactly what it’s like to have no idea what’s real and what’s in your head.”

Of course Sam would know; he’d told you vague stories of the torture he’d endured in the cage before you’d met him. The other pieces Dean filled in, about his visions of Lucifer taunting him, and the scar on his palm that reminded him he was safe. When Sam was having a really bad day you’d sometimes gently trace a finger across that scar to remind him of that fact. And on even worse days, when you had a moment alone, you’d peck small kisses to it.

He held his hand out and waited for you to take it as you approached him. When you did, he pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around your hips as he nestled his face into your waist. You twisted your fingers in his hair as he sighed a ragged breath into you. You stood there just like that, silent, as Sam breathed in and out, comforted by your fingers tracing up and down his scalp and twisting idly in his hair. 

“Will it help if you tell me about it?” he asked after a minute. 

You considered the idea. “Maybe–later though, or tomorrow–not yet–and besides, Dean’s gonna be back soon,” you said. He looked up at you. Those big, pitiful–beautiful eyes that you’d walk across shattered glass and hot coals to see just one more time. You didn’t need to cut his arm to know he wasn’t a shifter. This was all Sam. You disentangled a hand from his hair and lightly prodded at his left arm causing him to release you. You slid your fingers down the length of his arm as he bent it up to you. When you reached his wrist you gently grasped it in your palm and pulled it up to your lips so you could press a kiss to his scarred palm. 

“I love you,” you murmured as you released his wrist. He glided his palm across your jaw and cupped it as he rose to his feet. Your other arm slid down and you slipped it under the back of his shirt to hold him just above his hip, urging him to stay close.

“Love you,” he whispered back. He held fastly, now, to either side of your face as he ducked down and pressed his lips to yours. You released his hip and lifted your hands, resting them over his as he held you, ensuring he didn’t release you before you were ready. You opened your lips to him and he hesitated for the briefest second before deepening the kiss and slipped his tongue momentarily along yours. You could feel the electricity buzzing between you as he started to pull back. You leaned forward and captured his lips with yours. 

“More,” you murmured against his mouth. Obedient as always, Sam kissed you back, hungrily now, like he needed your lips on his to sustain himself. He angled your face up and deepened the kiss with his tongue. Gently, he sucked your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it and going back to your lips for more. You sighed into him as you released his hands. He let one trail over your neck as the other gripped your waist, pulling you closer and eliciting a low gasp from your lips. You cupped the side of his face with one hand as you let the other one return to his hair, just behind his ear where you drew light circles with your thumb. 

“I should shower,” you said, remembering Dean was on his way.

“I’m the one that needs the cold shower,” he whispered with a smirk as you rested your hands on his chest. 

“Oh please, it takes way more than that to get you going.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” he said as he gently grasped your hand and pulled it down so that you could feel his partially stiffened cock beneath his jeans. He smiled at the blush that flushed your cheeks as he shifted sideways, turning his back to the door and walked you backwards toward the bathroom. 

“I really missed you,” he said as he pressed his lips to the juncture of your neck and jaw. 

The roar of the Impala broke the trance and you broke apart. You listened as Dean pulled the car to the door and cut the engine off. Dean entered the room in a rush, not even bothering to shut the car door behind him. He looked to you and then to Sam and arched an eyebrow. You made your way to Dean as Sam sat uncomfortably down at the edge of the bed, tugging at his jeans as he crouched.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Something like that,” you said as you hugged him. “Thanks for–” 

“ ‘Course,” he said as he continued to study you before glancing again to Sam. “Okay, well, you two ready to put this place in the rearview after we eat a quick bite? Because I sure as shit am,” he said as he clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. He turned and made his way back out the motel door, leaving it hanging open as he rifled through the back seat before returning with a plastic bag and a paper tray with three sweating cups of ice cold soda in one hand and a brown paper bag that smelled greasy and warm and delicious in the other. The smell awakened your appetite and your stomach rumbled in response. 

“Holy shit, I’m fucking hungry,” you said, eliciting a small chuckle from Sam. 

“Good, cause I got your favorite cheeseburger: extra mustard, extra pepper, add jalapenos,” Dean said as he kicked the door shut behind him and set the drinks down on the table. 

Your mouth watered as you took the bag from Dean and set it on the table, hungrily pulling a fistful of fries from the bag, and stuffing them in your mouth as you took a seat. You didn’t have the heart to tell him your throat may be too sore to enjoy mustard and jalapenos and you were too hungry to really care.

“Hey, those better not be my fries!” Dean shouted. You stiffened and glanced hesitantly in his direction. Sam’s lips twitched up into a small smile at you before he saw that Dean was handing him the plastic bag. 

“Oh, thanks,” he said hesitantly as he squinted at the bag. 

“Only thing around here was a wally-world so those’ll have to do,” Dean said as he made his way back to the table and sat across from you. He pulled one of the cups from the tray and took a long pull. 

You were already three bites into your burger and had dumped the fries on to the paper wrapping when Dean fished his food out of the bag. You turned and watched as Sam pulled a large shoe box from the bag and lifted one of the boots out. They were steel-toe, dark brown work boots. “They’ll definitely do,” he said as he pulled them on and fussed with the laces. To you, they looked closer to something Dean would choose for himself than what Sam normally wore but the options were surely slim.

“You gonna eat, Sammy?” Dean asked a moment later. You looked back to see Sam was still at the edge of the bed, watching you and Dean devour your meals. There was a hesitancy in his eyes that confused you and you furrowed your brows at him. He shook his head and smiled as he stood up.

“So, the bunkers good?” you asked Dean after handing Sam his burger. There were only two seats at the small dinette table so Sam sat at the foot of Dean’s bed and took a careful bite of his cheeseburger. 

“Good as it can be,” he said as he chewed a large bite. “Cass said everything was fine. Had to have been some kind of spell–a cloaking spell or an entry spell–that either the shifter already knew or got from, you know, Sam’s beautiful mind,” he said before taking another pull from his soda.

You grimaced at the thought. Sam let out a guilty huff before leaning his long body off the bed and over to the table and to take one of your fries as he kissed your cheek. 

“S’okay,” you said as he sat back down. You lifted your leg and rubbed your pointed toe along the side of his calf. A pained smile crossed his face as he looked to you.

You finished the last bite of your cheeseburger and took a giant gulp from the soda, tossed a few fries quickly in your mouth and stood up, wiping your hands off with a napkin. “Finish my fries for me, Sam,” you said. “Gonna shower real quick.” 

Sam’s palm rested on his knee and you made sure to pass him closely enough that you could graze two fingers over the back of his hand. His hand twitched reflexively from the sudden, unexpected touch. 

“Be careful of your cut,” he whispered. You smiled tenderly at him from the doorway before turning and shutting the door.

You showered–for the first time since–and it felt so good to finally, really wash the shifter off. You let the hot water relax the tension in your shoulders and neck and scrubbed gently at your scalp with the motel shampoo. You paid extra attention with the sudsy washcloth, trying to make sure you scrubbed every part of you that the shifter touched. It wasn’t enough, you could still feel it and as the memories started to enter your mind, you hurried through the rest of your shower, not comfortable to be alone with your own thoughts. 

When you were done, you put on fresh clothes you had tucked away in your go-bag. More plaid flannel, t-shirts and dark-washed jeans. The clothing was just practical for hunting, more than anything. Although, it was nice to look like you actually belonged with Sam and Dean when you went anywhere. Sometimes you would see other girls in their crop tops or chunky sweaters, baggy jeans and sneakers, floral dresses that cinched at the waist paired with platform boots–all things with even the vaguest whiff of a ‘fashion sense’ and you’d feel a pang of jealousy for yours long lost. 

You brushed gently through your wet hair and pulled it into a quick braid, easy and out of the way, the short pieces fell loose around your face. You peered out of the bathroom. Sam was packing his bag on top of his side of the bed.

He looked up when he heard the door open and turned back to smile at you. The front door hung open and you could hear Dean packing up the Impala.

“You’re so cute,” he said. You shrugged as you slung your duffel over your shoulder. 

You arched a brow at him. “I look like I went three rounds with a lawnmower,” you said with a huff of laughter as you sat at the edge of the bed to pull on your boots, dropping your bag back to the floor.

“I like when you braid your hair,” he said as he brushed one of the loose pieces back and tucked it behind your ear. 

“Cut to me–practicing a dutch braid–then–cue the montage–as I perfect the waterfall braid, the half-up half-down twist, the mermaid, the fishtail and the low plait as ‘Every Little Thing She Does is Magic’ by The Police plays,” you said with a grin as you laced your boots. 

Sam playfully rolled his eyes as he slung his bag over his shoulder before picking up yours and doing the same. 

“I can carry it,” you said, as you stood up and slipped your phone into your back pocket. 

“I know you can,” he said as he indicated for you to walk on in front of him. You shook your head before walking to the car and climbed in the backseat. Dean didn’t protest as Sam, too, climbed in back. You fell asleep, slumped against Sam’s shoulder, hands laced together over his knee as CCR crackled through the speakers.