#ruins of the moonlight temple

[sunderwight]

Further speculation on Shen Yuan transmigrating in some kind of Beast:

Werewolf Shen Qingqiu.

And like, major emphasis on the wolf, in his case. Not wolfman. Every full moon Shen Qingqiu has to make arrangements for himself to turn into a gigantic silvery-white wolf that retains extremely little of his consciousness, and mostly just seems to want to do Wolf Things, though according to PIDW and all information he has on the matter, he ought to be turning into a violent and bloodthirsty predator.

However, it turns out that the wolf form does retain some awareness from the mind/soul of the human, meaning that the reason SJ's wolf was so incredibly unsafe to be around was because it was constantly trying to process SJ's trauma in wild animal terms. So, it was hostile towards the vast majority of humans and in a heightened state of anxiety, always anticipating violence (and reacting accordingly) whenever something unexpected happened. Matters were not helped by SJ's decision to try and lock himself up for every transformation, which of course freaked his wolf out even more (trapped) and resulted in self-harm as it desperately tried to escape. It was just that SJ interpreted the self-harm as a sign that the wolf was so extremely violent that it would cannibalize itself rather than go a single night without the taste of blood.

SY, who is a lot less traumatized, conversely has a much more calm and curious wolf. Like he's extremely cautious and nervous about the whole thing, because he's expecting it to be violent based on his information, and since he doesn't retain much awareness of his transformations he has little idea of what his wolf-self does. But he also isn't great at locking himself up like the original goods did, and he never really seems to wake up covered in blood or anything? Once or twice he thinks he might have hunted a rabbit, but they definitely were rabbits and not like his subconscious somehow going after children in the middle of a wilderness somewhere, because when he came to the wolf had brought the leftover bunny bits along back to the ruined temple he was supposed to be shutting himself up into.

The new Shen Qingqiu consequently gets a bit complacent about the whole thing. He can only blame himself. Maybe he should have anticipated Luo Binghe, with his boundless curiosity and interest in his shizun, would notice the oddities in his schedule and follow him out one night. Everyone's supposed to believe that he's just going to brothels and engaging in purely mundane debauchery, though, so why would Binghe doubt his story?

But he did, and so of course Luo Binghe ends up witnessing his shizun's terrible transformation into a wretched and hated beast. Stunned, the young disciple stands transfixed (no doubt in horror) in the moonlight. The wolf sees him, and though Shen Qingqiu doesn't retain much memory, he recollects the running, the leaping, the... uh... licking...?

Well. Turns out that even Shen Qingqiu's subconscious wolf mind recognizes Luo Binghe as pack, and thank goodness too, because at least he didn't attack him!

Although after that it becomes an extreme challenge to explain to Luo Binghe why he can't accompany Shen Qingqiu for his transformations every month. It's not safe, the wolf is unpredictable and Shen Qingqiu can't promise that he won't startle or suddenly change his tune and lash out, and even though Binghe's cultivation is progressing in leaps and bounds, the wolf also isn't limited to normal mortal strength. It would be able to track his scent and follow him relentlessly, chasing him down to catch and pin him beneath its massive paws, and... Binghe why is your face so red? Are you feeling alright? If it's too frightening, then let's not describe it any further, but the point is that it's dangerous.

Shen Qingqiu has to put his foot down. In the end, he has his suspicions that Binghe is still circumventing him, as he could swear he sometimes remembers running around the wilderness with company. (Binghe is absolutely sneaking out to go spend time with Wolf Shizun.) But there's nothing concrete enough to be certain. Meanwhile, Luo Binghe has at least agreed to keep it secret (for now -- probably not once the time comes for Shen Qingqiu to be put on trial) and fusses over his shizun, helping him keep track of the moon scheduling and always making sure he has a full belly before he goes into wilderness seclusion (Shen Qingqiu never says, but somehow Luo Binghe guesses anyway that he doesn't like waking up to find that the wolf had a snack during the night...)

Another hazard: lycanthropy in the PIDW setting is a curse. Like admittedly it's kind of a kickass one, but it still has tons of negative associations, most commonly befalling impoverished individuals or travelers who get bitten by wild wolf demons, and survive only to find that a piece of the wolf's spirit has gotten stuck to their own. Cultivators with lycanthropy are often associated with demons and disrepute, like Wu Yanzi, and there are countless tales of them turning on their own people or being revealed as violent, depraved criminals. It's only slightly more acceptable than being a demon outright.

In other words it's not a desirable circumstance.

And yet, for some reason, Luo Binghe is reprehensibly lapse in his protections against lycanthropy. Shen Qingqiu has told him all of the precautions he knows against it, and yet it's almost like Binghe keeps doing the exact opposite things! Listen, wolves are cool. Shen Qingqiu knows that. He's actually kind of fine with turning into one, since it seems to be less of a ravenous beast situation than he'd feared. But there are still social consequences to this kind of a thing! Luckily, it doesn't actually matter much because even with his uncharacteristic youthful irresponsibility, Binghe's heavenly demon blood protects him from ever being cursed. The only way he'd get lycanthropy would be if he deliberately let a werewolf bite him and then just refused to excise the curse, and even then, he could purge the tainted wolf spirit from him just by force of will whenever he wanted.

Seriously, though! It's only when Shen Qingqiu points out that Luo Binghe is going to make people suspicious with all his negligence towards basic precautions that Binghe finally smartens up about it.

(Luo Binghe, out in the woods during a full moon: Wolf Shizun please bite me? Bite Binghe? Then we can be together every full moon! Look here I'll stick my hand in your mouth... just, just chomp down... no don't lick... *sigh*...)

Anyway, the plot still goes mostly the same, except that when Shen Qingqiu put into the water prison it's the full moon. He expects this is part of Luo Binghe's plan against him -- Binghe probably couldn't reveal the lycanthropy without also admitting he'd known before and helped hide it, but this way, Shen Qingqiu can just get caught as a wolf by the palace guards. But Luo Binghe's just been so frazzled and distressed by everything that he genuinely forgot what phase the moon was on. Shen Qingqiu's expecting a lot of things when he wakes up after transforming in the Water Prison, but being back out of the Water Prison and snuggled up to the protagonist's chest wasn't on the list.

Turns out that after his confrontation with Luo Binghe and the Little Palace Mistress, Gongyi Xiao went to check on him and found him transformed. After Gongyi Xiao alerted the rest of the palace, the Palace Master determined that Shen Qingqiu being a werewolf was as good as a confirmation of guilt, and had the wolf dragged out to be killed. Luo Binghe intervened, Shen Qingqiu took off, and between one thing and another the whole night was spent with Huan Hua and Cang Qiong cultivators trying to catch him (for different reasons).

Of course it was Luo Binghe who eventually cornered the terrified wolf, at which point the wolf actually, finally did bite him. But when Binghe failed to react, it whimpered and went back to its usual behavior, and let Binghe lead it out of the city and off to its usual territory near Cang Qiong. The wolf then proceeded to act like an overjoyed puppy whose owner had finally come back from war, until Binghe broke down and sobbed himself to sleep. It must have curled up onto his chest afterwards.

Shen Qingqiu is deeply embarrassed, but... somehow Luo Binghe doesn't seem to be taking revenge on him?

He's going to need to treat that bite wound soon, though.

Binghe.

Binghe, you are going to treat that--

[azrielbrainrot]

Moonlit Shadows - Act I

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old, forgotten ruins if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance (kinda), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: a bit of angst

Word Count: 12,4k

Rating: 18+ (this part is actually kinda chill)

Notes: Just as a warning (?) reader has white hair and white silvery eyes in this story but those are the only physical descriptions I will make, they're kind of part of her magic. Also when I started writing this I totally intended on it being a one-shot but the story got away from me and I decided to split it up into 3 parts. I really hope you enjoy!

You've been pacing in front of the temple's door ever since the sun set over the mountain, the warm rays slowly being replaced with the brilliant pale moonlight. You keep wringing your hands together and smoothing down any possible wrinkle on your dress, repositioning the diadem perched on your head to make sure it sits perfectly. It's not often you get visitors up in the temple, let alone any your Goddess went out of Her way to warn you about and gave clear instructions to help in any way you could. You can't quite distinguish if the anxiety building inside you is the result of excitement or wariness - possibly a healthy dose of both.

The last time someone climbed these steps had been almost a full decade ago. It was a quite short affair as well since the visitor only needed a book long forgotten in the temple's library. You'd read it multiple times before, and offered it without hesitation, prompting the traveler to thank you and immediately start descending the mountain, going on his way all the while muttering about finally having all the knowledge he needed to achieve his goal. That small interaction served as a reminder of your purpose in this temple, filled you with a sense of accomplishment you usually felt in such situations, but you've been alone in between these walls since then.

After almost four centuries you're more than used to the quiet, to the way your steps echoe in the grand empty space. The loneliness had been a more prominent companion, but even that had come and gone throughout the years. You had no place in the world, nor family or friends waiting for you anymore. All you had left was your duty to the temple. But you're still only fae and the longing for some company catches up to you every once in a while. At times you think you only want the reminder that you're still alive.

There wasn't much to do around the temple either, it magically gave you food and kept itself clean so you didn't even need to bother with that. You could recite every book in the library at this point and you found you weren't the best artist as you tried your hand at painting and sculpting, even music and dancing. The flowers around the temple seemed to grow effortlessly, not even needing you to tend to them either. Even keeping a journal proved inefficient as there was little to write down, the monotony of your life not interesting enough for such a thing. When tasked with guarding the temple, you would never have imagined boredom would end up being your biggest problem.

You still recall the day your hair started turning white and your eyes dulling, losing their color slowly until they turned into the silver, almost white color they were now, mirroring the moonlight. At first your parents thought it could be some disease or even a curse, they were scared for your health and safety beyond measure, but when the Goddess contacted you and sent you the amulet you now wear religiously around your neck, it guided you and your parents to this very temple hidden in the mountains of the Night Court. She then told you Herself what the fates had written for you, presenting you with an oath and sharing her power with you, making you the Keeper of the Moon Temple.

Everything had seemed impossible to believe at first, the time of the Gods had passed millenia ago, it was hard to find someone who could even name any of them anymore, you certainly couldn't at the time. So when you were told what your role in life was going to be you had been completely blindsided, not even knowing what to make of your new occupation, of being trusted with such an important task when you weren't even three decades old.

Truthfully, you expected at least a few people to show up every once in a while, asking for help or guidance. You even prepared yourself for there to be some threats to the temple, but things had been mostly peaceful and quiet, so quiet. You understand why guarding the temple is important, this type of knowledge and power can't ever fall into the wrong hands, the safety of the world depends on it, but sometimes you wonder what your life could have been like if you hadn't been chosen by fate to hold such a heavy burden by yourself.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you feel a presence approaching, used to feeling them pass by unannounced as the temple remains hidden in its protective spell. When it's clear this is the visitor the Goddess had warned you about, as they entered the wards seamlessly, you take a deep calming breath, adjusting the diadem one last time, and open the heavy doors, revealing the temple to the moonlight. As the stairs come into view, you step up to the threshold and clasp your hands together behind your back, waiting to be of help as your Goddess instructed you to.

Distractedly rehearsing your greeting, unused as it was, you almost miss the dark shadows swirling up the milky steps, passing by you and escaping to all corners of the temple before you have time to react. Your head snaps back to follow them, breaking the calming character you were falling into in preparation to fulfill your duty. Some of your power drips down to your fingertips, casting a white glow under your skin, as you study these shadows intently. Not finding any ill intent in them, as strange as they were, some of the tension leaves your body. They simply lay before you, more and more of these wispy shadows gathering together as they swirled around themselves, not paling even a fraction under the bright moonlight or your powers. Strange little things indeed.

You wonder for a moment if this was the visitor the Goddess had mentioned, not knowing what to make of it or how to approach such a situation. She had not specified if the visitor was fae, though you're not so sure how you would be able to help shadows. Before you could embarrass yourself in trying to speak to these creatures, the same presence you felt earlier makes itself known, much closer than before. Looking up at the starry sky, you find strong, dark wings carrying someone directly to the temple, a glimpse of blue shining over their dark form.

This was already the most interesting visitor you've ever had. You'd never had the pleasure of meeting any winged fae before, and, given their reaction to the fae approaching, you were confident the shadows were under their command. Those were definitely even rarer than winged fae - Shadowsingers, you remember them being called.

As they fly down closer to you and the temple, slowly letting the wind guide them, you feel a strange tug on your chest, and then another, this time strong enough that it makes you look down at yourself with furrowed eyebrows. Your confusion only deepens when you notice a bright string connected to your heart, raising your hand to try and touch it. Your fingers pass right through it, as if it wasn't there in the first place, and soon after you try catching it, the string disappears from sight.

You lay a hand down over your chest, feeling your heart beating under your palm. The string was invisible now, but you could still feel it tugging incessantly, as if urging you to look up. You follow its silent command, almost gasping out loud when you find the winged fae a lot closer than you had expected, catching him as he lands with a harsh tud on top of the steps, arms bracing out to maintain his balance as if he isn't quite used to landing yet. The shadows swirling at your feet rush to him, and a bewildered expression takes over his face, likely mirroring your own, as he stares at you, mouth agape.

Wide leathery wings stand behind him, open in a somewhat awkward angle as he stands frozen in place. As the moonlight filters through them you realize they're not quite black as they appeared before, the insides actually have a beautiful crimson hue to them. Your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they keep cataloging his entire form, taking note of every detail as if it was crucial information. He was covered from head to toe in black leathers, you recognize it as an armor of sorts. It clung to his every muscle, showcasing them as much as it protected him from harm. You find the same blue light from before twinkling in the midst of all the black, studying it closer to find it came from gems scattered across his armor, you're almost certain they hold some of his magic somehow.

Moving up his neck, you find tan skin shining under the moonlight and black hair curling into his forehead softly, locks messy and a little damp from the flight. The stranger also had striking hazel eyes, and you find yourself struggling to not get lost in them, only bringing yourself to break eye contact when you notice the glittery string once more in the corner of your eye, only this time it's connected to his chest.

Your breath catches in your throat as you follow its path slowly, careful not to lose the thin thread once more, finding it leading back to your own heart. You feel another tug, prompting you to look back up at the male in front of you. A hand falls over your heart at the implication, right where you could feel the phantom string had tied itself. Yet another tug confirming your suspicions.

How could this be?

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Azriel wasn't expecting his evening to turn out like this when he was called to Rhys' office. While he knew there was going to be a mission of sorts, he never imagined it would involve a temple no one has ever heard of or a Goddess long forgotten. Even with Amren's knowledge and the old books she found corroborating her words, Azriel was still anticipating coming back to Velaris empty handed. He's flown over these same mountains at least a million times in the five centuries he's been alive, and never once has he noticed a temple or any signs of magic.

The woods under him looked completely untouched as far as he could tell, no one choosing to live so far from the neighboring towns, isolated between the trees and steep mountains. His shadows filtered through the woods in case he missed something from his high position, even if he thought this search was in vain, it didn't mean he wasn't going to give it his best to fulfill his High Lord's order. He felt almost naked without his shadows latching onto his body though, the single companion still perched on his shoulder in order to relay him information not giving him nearly enough coverage to feel at ease when he was so far from home.

Mission and discomfort aside, the wind felt heavenly hitting his skin on this warm summer evening. It had been a while since he was able to fly for this long without dreading his destination as it usually meant he was visiting the Illyrian mountains, the Hewn City or a much more gruesome mission than the one he found himself in at the moment. It also feels good to step away from the full houses he found himself in nowadays. As much as he loved his family, Azriel had always valued his alone time and it was getting harder to find himself completely alone in the midst of missions and the ever growing inner circle.

As he was flying over the edge of the mountain, Azriel was getting ready to make the trip back and throw a very satisfying “I told you so” at his brother's face when his shadows suddenly disappeared right before his eyes. The abruptness of it made him panic for a few seconds, clapping his wings so he was hovering in the same place and was able to study the space ahead of him, trying to feel for any type of ward or shield but coming up empty. He could still feel his shadows, and knew they were alright given how calm the remaining one was as it sat on his shoulder and simply urged him forward, as if confused why he had stopped in the first place.

Azriel trusted his shadows blindly, they had never steered him wrong after all, and so he did as he was told and slowly started moving forward once again. After living for five hundred years surrounded by magic, there isn't much that can surprise the shadowsinger, but he can safely say he's never seen anything like this. He felt his body pass through some sort of gateway, one that went unnoticed by him until now, and as he did his surroundings began changing as if they had only been a mirage before.

In between the trees a path carved in white stone could now be seen, glinting under the moonlight in complete contrast to the rest of the dark woods. As his eyes followed this path, going up stairs of the same stone carved into the side of the mountain, he found a white temple sitting right at the top. It wasn't a huge building by any means, but the white eerie glow it emitted made it impossible to miss had it not been the spell covering it - one that would make the one who kept Velaris safe for centuries pale in comparison - and keeping it hidden from the world and unwanted eyes.

Amren had been right after all, something that happens more often than he would ever care to admit. The Goddess of the Moon still had at least a temple left in this world, leaving it behind when She took to the sky. Not much is known about the old Gods, but Azriel, born and raised in the Night Court, felt himself relax as he looked up at the moon shining above him, not believing this Goddess could be anything but benevolent. She had watched him fly over from Velaris after all, it almost felt like he was guided here.

The entire temple was made of white stone - it appeared to be the same type of stones used for the path and stairs leading up to it, only more polished. There were silver highlights carved into the walls and columns, these glowed with an intensity Azriel had never seen. Most of the roof was a huge skylight, likely so the moon could illuminate Her temple and Her followers could bask in Her brilliant light.

Given the color scheme of the entire building, his shadows were easy enough to spot, which would have been a big problem had he decided on a more covert operation when coming to the temple, he was more than glad he came here in peace. His little companions seemed perfectly content as they swirled around and over themselves right in front of the temple's doors, a few steps from a figure completely clad in white.

Even after finding the temple where he had only seen trees and shrubs before, he couldn't help but feel even more surprised that there was someone inside it. A sudden spark of magic has the shadowsinger moving faster, a gasp catching in his throat when he sees bright, pale light coming from the figure's palms. Even this wasn't enough to send the shadows that would be at the receiving hand of it into alarm, something curious on its own as they were usually as suspicious and careful as their master.

Azriel was already within earshot when the person in front of him decided his shadows posed no threat and the white light disappeared from her hands. At first glance she might have looked like a regular high fae female, but there was a different kind of power flowing through her, as shown by the strange way this light magic manifested itself, something Azriel had never felt before.

Upon flying down closer, his feet almost touching the top of the steps in front of the temple, he realizes she had not been wearing a white hood or veil as he initially thought but her hair was completely white. There was an unnatural element to it as each strand shone under the moonlight, almost rivaling it in its intensity. The floor length dress she wore was of the same color, made of a light, breathable fabric, almost translucent in certain areas, swishing softly in the faint breeze. She had not looked up at him yet, seemingly intrigued as she watched her own chest. Perhaps looking at the pendant she wore around her neck, the magic coming from it could almost be seen in its intensity.

Azriel took this moment to take her in, not knowing what to say since he was the one possibly trespassing. She was absolutely gorgeous, truly mesmerizing in her beauty and demeanor. It was almost impossible to believe she was real, standing right in front of him and not a Goddess walking his dreams. For a moment Azriel wonders if this is truly the Goddess, if She never left the land of the mortals as it was once believed, instead keeping herself safely hidden in these uninhabited mountains, but when she looks up from her necklace, eyes falling on him for the first time, all thoughts evaporate from his mind. White, silvery eyes meet hazel and a sudden rush of inexplicable feelings hit him right in the chest, squeezing his heart tight and taking his breath away. It felt as if the world had broken apart and put itself together, as if everything finally made sense. The only thing he could make sense of was one word, swirling around in his mind and completely taking over every cell on his body. Mate. You were his mate.

In his stupor, Azriel forgets he was still up in the air, wings freezing along with the rest of his body and sending him falling towards the ground. Thankfully, he hadn't been too high up, and was still able to land on his feet, knees only buckling under his weight slightly as he steadied himself. This had to be the most ungraceful landing he's performed since his brothers were training him between giggles and harmless teasing when he first joined the Illyrian camps. If he wasn't so surprised and his brain was able to formulate a single thought, he would be cringing at the fact that you had just witnessed it, his mate had witnessed it.

It takes several moments before he starts catching on to the situation, the ringing in his ears subsiding and the rest of the world re-emerging around you. He hadn't even noticed his shadows had returned to him, ecstatic for their master finally found his equal. Azriel tries to school his features in an attempt to keep at least some dignity, in fear of coming on too strong as well, especially since it seemed you were in the same predicament as him, a curious but stunned expression locked in your beautiful face as you studied him. His stupid Illyrian senses make him flare out his wings a little before he has the chance to fully take control of his body. When your gaze finds his once more, his heart stalls in his chest before speeding up at an alarming rate. You haven't even spoken a single word to him, but his heart already sang for yours.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The oath you made before your Goddess rushes into your head as you study the handsome male in front of you. How could this be possible? The fates had decided your life lied within the temple long before you were born, so why give you a mate? A bond like this is extremely rare, you'd never seen one in your entire lifetime, albeit you lived isolated from the world for most of it. Still, this was something only a few were blessed with, a bond stronger than what mortal minds could even comprehend, so why waste it on you? Could the fates and the Mother be this cruel?

You can't even bring yourself to hope he didn't notice the brilliant bond forming between you - an angry twist pulling at your heartstrings when you dare to think of hiding it - considering the expression on his face and his silence, it seems he's already more than aware of it. All it took was a single glance and it had fallen into place for both of you.

In the midst of the rushing thoughts invading your brain, you try to remember what you've read about mating bonds. There was a book talking about them in the library, of this much you were sure, but its contents were evading your racing mind.

Gaze falling to the floor, trying to sober up from what you imagine to be one of the most intense occurrences anyone could go through, you almost miss the step he takes towards you. The surprise of it makes you flinch slightly, but it was enough for him to notice and take the same step back, wings coiling up tightly to his back and shadows moving to cover him almost completely, excitement wiped off his face and replaced with a hurt expression.

Your gaze falls on him once more, a self loathing feeling crawling up your throat and making you want to beg for his forgiveness on your knees at the thought that you put that expression on his face. This bond would take some getting used to, in what world would you kneel before a male you've just met. Still, you didn't want him to think he scared or even disgusted you in any way, mate or no mate, that was extremely rude.

You clear your throat softly, remembering the weight of your role in this temple and trying desperately to fall back into character, hoping the familiarity of your duties will bring your mind some peace and help you get through this moment.

“Forgive me, it isn't often that we get visitors,” his entire body tenses up even further at your words, but it relaxes as you keep speaking, “I welcome you to the last Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple. I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats, but also do my best to help anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just as you have been.”

You try not to look too long in his general direction in fear of getting lost in his eyes once more, but that's close to impossible when you're talking to him and he might be the most beautiful male you've ever encountered. Taking a step to the side, you hold out a hand towards the door, inviting him into the temple, something you should have already done.

He nods his head once after watching your outstretched arm for a moment longer, and then makes his way inside slowly. As he passes by, you can't help but breathe in his scent, it feels intoxicating and it takes every bit of strength in your body to not let your mind linger on how well it would smell mixed with yours, until you couldn't point out where one ended and the other began.

A gasp pulls you out of your betraying thoughts, a smile finding its way to your lips, knowing the sight was making him speechless. It always sparks a little pride in you when someone gazes upon the temple for the first time. Even after living here for centuries, this temple's beauty still takes your breath away. The entire floor was made of replandescent white stones, silver gems weave highlights into them, creating patterns across the entire room, maps of constellations and lunar phases, and giving it a particular glow of their own. They were illuminated by the giant skylight making up most of the ceiling, as to allow both the moon and sunlight to enter. You've tried identifying the materials used in this construction before but ended up coming up empty. It seems the precious stones and gems used no longer grew in this world, perhaps they never did.

At the far corner of the room there was an altar, one without statue or offering table, but an altar all the same. Even when She walked this world, your Goddess never accepted gifts or ever allowed anyone to replicate her image because even that could end up leaving traces of her power behind. The altar looks empty right now, and you catch yourself wishing he could be here to see it on a full moon, when the moon rays fall right over it and you can communicate with and receive any orders the Goddess might have for you. The entire room holds an even more intense glow during that night of the month as well, you're sure he would find it fascinating.

Making your way around him, careful not to step too close or accidentally touch his wings, you catch sight of his awe stricken face, tan skin glowing beautifully under the moonlight. A small, fond smile appears on his face when his gaze falls back on yours, and you almost curse the Mother for the challenge she just put in front of you. His beauty was truly otherworldly, it rivaled every shiny gem and stone in this room, maybe even the moon herself. How were you supposed to act normally knowing this was your mate?

“I've never seen anything like this before,” he admits softly, eyes never straying from yours. The sound of his voice makes you pause, it feels strangely familiar, like something you've been waiting to hear your entire life. There's a curious kind of magic around mating bonds, you don't know how it's possible for someone you've just met to already have so much power over you, even when you're trying your best to ignore him.

“I still find myself at a loss for words when gazing at this room as well,” you agree, wanting to cringe at the bashful expression you know has fallen over your face. Your plan of keeping a detached demeanor while fulfilling your duties was doomed from the start. You clasp your hands behind your back before continuing in what you hope is a professional voice. “The Goddess warned me of your arrival and left orders for me to help you in any way I can. If you tell me what you seek, I will give you what you came here for as long as it's within my abilities.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly at your words. “How did you know I was coming?”

“The Goddess knows more than us mortals will ever be able to grasp,” you explain as vaguely as possible while hopefully not raising any suspicions. There's not a single cell in your body that thinks he's untrustworthy, but they're incredibly biased, and the inner workings of your role as the Moon's keeper must be protected.

He seems satisfied enough with your answer, but there's a different kind of air about him now. As if remembering he doesn't know you, and has found himself at your mercy.

“You haven't told me what you came for,” you remind him. If you sit in silence for long your thoughts will start drifting again.

“Right,” he clears his throat, a pinkish tint covering the tips of his rounded ears. “I come on behalf of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.” Your eyebrows raise at this, not expecting him to be such an important person. “One of the High Lady's sisters has been turned into a seer recently, and given that she wasn't even born fae, these powers have proven extremely hard to control.”

You've heard the story of the human who saved the fae from the evil clutches of Amarantha, and her sisters who were tragically thrown in the cauldron by King Hybern and turned into fae against their will. Your Goddess had even told you one of the sisters vengefully stole her powers from the cauldron, and the other was gifted seer abilities. Given the circumstances in which this all went down, it's understandable that she has been having trouble controlling her powers. Being a seer is an exceptionally heavy burden, and she's still so young too.

“We have some books that might be able to help, both in controlling one's power and pulling an entranced fae out of any visions or dreams they've found themselves stuck in. Was that what you were hoping for?”

“Yes,” he admits, apparently relieved at having found what he was looking for, “We found texts mentioning the followers of the Moon Goddess often had prophetic dreams, and wrote entire manuals on how to navigate them. Since Elain wasn't born with these powers these books seemed perfect to help her, and so the High Lady sent me searching for them.” You nod, motioning for him to follow you as you turn and start walking to the library, already making a mental list of all the books that might help his friend.

Even lost in thought, you sense him stopping in his steps as you're walking down the corridor, overwhelmingly aware of his every move as you were. This prompts you to turn around and face him in question, only to find him watching you in amazement.

“You're breathtaking,” he blurts out before he can catch himself, making heat rush up your neck and settle over your entire face. He looks away embarrassed for a moment, one of his shadows crawling up his neck and over his ear, before looking back at you with a bashful look. “I'm sorry. I just- Is it normal for you to glow like this?”

This power has been a part of you for so long, you almost forget about the way your hair lights up in the dark, an aura surrounding you as well, giving you an overall ethereal glow. “Yes, I harness power from the moon and She glows so…” you trail off, biting your lip as he keeps studying you. “The library is right up ahead,” you add, turning your back to him once more so you can gather your thoughts for the nth time since he stepped foot into this temple.

As you navigate through the familiar rows of shelves your heart finally calms, easily picking up the pertinent books. You can't help but keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, not out of suspicion, but curiosity for his every reaction. He seems content with following after you as he watches the decorations and studies the books sitting on the shelves, not once asking you what you're giving him, simply carrying the books you hand him. It makes you wonder if he usually trusts everyone this easily or if it's something reserved for you.

When you hand him the last book, you move to the back of the room slowly, the place where you keep some important magical amulets and tools, waiting on any sign from the Goddess forbidding you from lending him any of them. He comes to stand beside you then, likely noticing your hesitation.

“There is also an artifact that I think could help your friend,” you start, picking up the bracelet in question and holding it up as you explain its power, “This can help numb one's powers.”

“Like faebane?”

You shake your head, “No, this is completely painless, but it's vital that it is only used when she's finding herself lost in her visions and you're struggling to pull her out. This is not to be used as a crutch. If she used it to suppress her powers too often, she might never be able to take control of her full powers and this bracelet could become something she can't live without.” He nods, hopefully understanding the gravity behind your words. “It's also extremely rare and dangerous so I ask that, as soon as she has a better grasp of her abilities, I would say within a few years at most, this bracelet is delivered back to the temple so it can be kept safe.”

“What happens if we don't return it?”

The question makes you tense up and close your hands around the bracelet, your voice coming out clipped as you answer him. “I'm not entirely sure as no one has ever attempted something so foolish as long as I've been here, but those types of transgressions are handled by the Goddess so I imagine you would not be able to keep it even if you tried.”

“I wasn't considering keeping it. I was merely curious,” he rushes to explain, sincerity dripping from every word and making you relax a bit.

“Curious?”

“If you would be the one to come for it,” he confessed.

A warm tingly feeling spreads through your body as you digest his words. Would he seriously consider stealing from a God just for a chance to see you again? Even if it meant being at the end of your wrath? Can you be confident the bond wouldn't drive you to such extremes as well?

“I can't leave the temple unattended,” you murmur, much too softly for your own good. Your emotions are running all over the place, it almost seems like they're fighting to see which one will take control of your body, and unfortunately, you have an inkling as to which is winning as his scent overwhelms your senses once again.

“Of course,” he says, taking a small step closer to you, shadows mostly retreating from his body, “Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you.” Must his voice sound like a cup of hot chocolate after a day spent playing in the snow?

It doesn't help that you've been in this temple for so long that you can't even recall the last time someone touched you, not even sexually, no one has so much as held your hand or hugged you in decades, ever since your parents passed. Looking at him, you know you could get lost in his arms, your head resting against his strong chest.

It's only when you squeeze the bracelet too hard, a bit of its power zapping through you, that you're finally able to pull yourself from the beautiful hazel of his eyes, and your consuming thoughts. Clearing your throat and handing him the bracelet. He only hesitates a second, likely pulling himself out of the moment as well, before carefully taking it from your hand, conscious of not letting his skin touch yours, much to your dismay.

You can feel your eyes widen at the sight of his scarred hands before you have a chance to school your features. The armor he wears and the sword strapped between his wings tell you he's a warrior, but you can't imagine what could have happened for this injury to scar like this. Someone employed directly under the High Lord must have access to the best healers in the court. Suddenly, anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach at the thought that someone dared to hurt your mate.

This time he's the one to pull away from you abruptly, shadows returning to their master, and that infuriating string tugging at your heart as he does. It makes you want to reach out and hold his hand, reassure him somehow, but thankfully your brain catches up to the thought that might be overstepping, and so you simply nod at him and ask him to follow you back to the temple's main room once more.

The walk back is filled with a heavy atmosphere, not only considering your oversight, but also at the realization that you must send him away now, likely never to see him again. If you're lucky he will be the one to return the bracelet, and you will be able to see him in a few years. The thought makes you slow your pace.

It's only when you reach the heavy doors, that you allow yourself to turn to him, his face reflecting your feelings perfectly. You briefly consider mentioning the bond, at least to make sure he feels it too, but you fail to see what good that would bring. You still can't leave the temple and, now that he's gotten what he came for, he will not be able to return either. This will be the last time you see each other, regardless of your feelings.

He studies your face carefully, perhaps wondering the same. It seems he reaches a conclusion as he speaks up, “Can you tell me your name?” He sounded hopeful, but somehow scared of asking, as if denying him could hurt him beyond comparison.

You whisper your name hesitantly, knowing this isn't just another stranger, this was your mate. He repeats it, tasting it on his tongue as he stares at you with an intensity you almost couldn't bear, but were unable to look away from.

“My name is Azriel,” he offers willingly, like he wanted nothing more than to hear you say his name, and who were you to deny him this when you were already withholding so much? You repeat his name the same way he did yours, the impertinent little silver string connecting you and your mate reappearing as the delicious word left your lips.

You keep repeating it in your mind as he thanks you for your help and you watch him take flight, hesitation written in his entire body language as his wings slowly carry him over the clouds, looking back down multiple times as if fighting himself to keep moving. You repeat it once more out loud, when you can't see him anymore and you know he's out of earshot. This time his name is followed by a broken whisper of an apology.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The flight back to Velaris was one of the hardest ones Azriel has ever attempted, noticeably taking him much longer than it would have under normal circumstances. He has had to fly back home on an injured body and even injured wings, carrying another with him – Cassian of all people – and he's had to fly through the most extreme weather, heavy rain, snow and the torrid desert sun. All of those things had seemed easy compared to what he was experiencing now with a well rested body.

Both Rhysand and Cassian had mentioned how the mating bond made them act differently, how it seemed like it was taking control of their body and pushing them to act a certain way, but he didn't expect it to be this bad. His every instinct was screaming at him to turn around and go back for his mate.

He even had to take a break along the way, after watching the temple disappear right before his eyes, hidden inside the spell that had kept it safe for millenia. As the sight of the brilliant building was replaced with trees and rocks, the only thing going through Azriel's mind was that he might never see his mate again, the mere thought sending his heart into disarray. He spends a good while sitting under the moonlight, looking ahead at where he knows she is, while his shadows do their best to comfort him. Trying desperately to wrap his head around everything that happened, and how much his life changed in such a short time.

If he had been given a warning, a chance to prepare himself, then maybe he would have approached things differently, but getting blindsided by a mating bond wasn't in his plans. In fact, it had been a good while since he had stopped hoping for a mate.

He had longed for one most of his life. For someone that not only was his equal, but was also able to connect to him in ways only those who have experienced such a thing can begin to comprehend. A person that would accept him no matter how wretched he was, how much blood he has had to wash off his hands for the sake of his court. Someone he would love with every breath in him, even if it ruined him completely.

So many don't truly believe in mating bonds until they see them in front of them, but Azriel always did. He'd seen the worst this world had to offer and knew that if there was such darkness, then its counterpart would be equally as strong. And what could be stronger and brighter than love?

It wasn't until his brothers found mates of their own within a year of each other that Azriel started truly wishing for one though. Before, it was nothing more than a dream, just as he had dreamt of flying when he was locked in his cell, of seeing his mother when his cruel father kept him away from her, but seeing the happiness the mating bond had brought his brothers and how amazing the connection they shared with their mates was, he couldn't help longing for the same.

That was until enough years passed, everyone around him happily mated or in loving relationships while he stood by and watched from the same dark corner of the room. Azriel had convinced himself he wasn't worthy of a mate, even now after seeing you he can't help but feel the same. You were perfect in every aspect of the word, a beacon of light even kept away in your temple, while Azriel was nothing more than a monster. The feared Spymaster of the Night Court. Always ready to drench his hands in blood for the sake of his family and his home, always covered in shadows. A lesser fae, Illyrian of all kinds.

You deserve someone better, of that much he's sure, but the Mother had decided you were equals, and Azriel didn't mind doing his best to be worthy of you even if he had to work for it for the rest of his life. He's been waiting to love someone for so long, has been saving all of that inside him, and he wants nothing more than to shower you in affection, in reverence. Except it didn't seem like he would have the chance.

For most of your interaction, Azriel was convinced you had also felt the bond forming between you two, but he couldn't be sure, not when you hadn't even mentioned it or alluded to it before showing him out. Maybe he had read too much into things, let his own feelings bleed into his analysis, or maybe you simply didn't want a mating bond, not with someone like him. It didn't seem like you knew of him, but who's to say you haven't heard of the awful things he's done, and decided you didn't want anything to do with a monster like him.

The thought had his shadows rushing to soothe him once more, whispering vehement denials of his unworthiness as they covered him. Unfortunately, they wouldn't answer any of his questions about you, claiming it wasn't their place to explain your feelings or situation. In a way they were right, but that left him with no idea of what to think.

Azriel sat on that mountain, mulling over everything that had happened until the first rays of the sun started rising over the horizon. It wasn't until Rhysand reached out to check on him, worried at his spymaster's unusual tardiness, that he resumed his trip back to Velaris, this time passing through shadows along the way to cut his time shorter, hoping his brother hadn't caught glimpse of the heartbreakingly beautiful female consuming his every thought. Trying desperately to clear his mind as the cool wind hit his face, preparing for the meeting that was waiting for him as soon as he got home.

“So the temple truly exists?” Rhysand had been as skeptical about the temple's existence as Azriel, finding it hard to believe that such a thing could be hidden in his own court without his knowledge.

Azriel nods and sets the books you've given him on the dark desk, dropping the bracelet on top of the pile carefully, trying not to be reminded of the way you had handed it to him, or focus on your scent still clinging to it faintly. Shaking himself out of it and letting the spymaster mask fall over his face, he starts explaining how he had found the temple behind a powerful spell, going into detail about the building itself, the keeper who had helped him and the books and bracelet given to him, including the warnings you gave him, making sure to stress the fact that the bracelet was to be returned as soon as Elain gained enough control of her abilities.

“You really didn't feel the wards around the temple?”

“No, if my shadows hadn't disappeared right before my eyes I wouldn't have even noticed they were there.” So much had happened that Azriel almost forgot how peculiar those wards were, in fact all the magic present in the temple and in you had felt different.

“And this keeper?” His heart speeds up treacherously, enough so that Rhys gets a curious glint in his purple eyes, undoubtedly noticing it. “Tell me about her.”

A soft scowl takes over his features, a strange possessiveness creeping up before has the chance to quell it. “She was waiting for me at the entrance. Apparently the Moon Goddess warned her there was a visitor coming.”

“She can talk to the Goddess?”

“It seems so,” Azriel hesitates for a moment, “Her magic is different from any fae I've seen. Her hair is completely white, and her eyes aren't much darker, maybe a bit more silver. There was a certain aura about her, her entire being seemed to glow beautifully under the moonlight, even more when we moved inside. She truly looked otherworldly. In that moment, she looked even more radiant than the stars and the moon combined.”

A moment of silence falls over the room as everyone digests Azriel's words, tiny gasps leaving Feyre and Elain, who had been out of it for most of the conversation as a result of yet another one of her visions, and Nesta's jaw dropping significantly as they were not used to hearing the Shadowsinger muse about someone like this. Unfortunately, the others have seen him drunk enough when he was younger, so it wasn't as much of a surprise.

“What was that, brother?” Cassian's teasing voice cuts through his thoughts, “I thought you didn't resort to poetry.”

Azriel looks up at this, heat rising to his cheeks at the amused looks shared by everyone in the room, realizing he had lost himself in his descriptions of you, unable to keep them as clinical as he normally would, especially when it came to a mission.

“I just meant her magic manifests in a way I've never seen before,” he finishes lamely, one of his shadows oh so helpfully crawling up his neck to notify him that no one seemed to believe his excuse.

“Right, her magic,” Nesta mocks, suddenly interested in hearing about the temple after focusing on the books that would be helping her sister.

Thankfully, Amren didn't care about whether he found the keeper beautiful or not, and wanted to keep the conversation on track, a bored expression on her face as she pulled the attention back to her and the topic at hand.

“You said she called herself the keeper of the temple, correct?”

Azriel nods at her while checking his mental walls just in case, lest he also let them fall in his moment of distraction, and his High Lord or Lady saw something they shouldn't. He can only guess what feelings and thoughts would be attached to your image in his mind. If they saw this he would never hear the end of it.

“I believe she not only can communicate with the Goddess but also shares some of her powers. It's hard to determine just how powerful she truly is,” the ancient one turns to Rhys and Feyre, a serious look taking over her features, “She could become a threat to us.”

“She's not a threat,” his voice cuts through the room, protecting his mate instinctively.

Rhysand raises one annoyingly perfect eyebrow at Azriel's sudden outburst. Some of the amusement still lingers around the room, but the anger behind his statement was undeniable, creating some tension and confusion between everyone. It's not often they see him so on edge, to the point of raising his voice at Amren of all people.

He tries to calm himself as much as possible, knowing this is a symptom of the mating bond and that his brothers and sister-in-laws might be able to figure that out, and tries to explain himself once again.

“I was the one who talked to her, there were no ill intentions when she guided me through the temple and gave me the books. She even added more books than we wanted or knew existed, and the bracelet. She helped us willingly.”

Amren studies him through narrowed eyes for a moment longer before finishing her earlier thought. “Even if she had any ill intentions, keepers are bound to their temples and can't physically leave, so there wouldn't be much to worry about.”

It feels like the world stops when Azriel hears these words. Every little hope he was clinging to in regards to your bond escaped him in that moment. If what Amren said was true, you couldn't leave the temple, even if you wanted to come and find him, and he couldn't find the temple unless he needed something and the Goddess showed him the way. He could very well never see you again, or only once more, when Elain got better and he had to deliver the books and bracelet back to the temple. Was that why you ignored the bond? Because you knew there was no hope for the two of you?

Azriel spends the rest of the meeting in a sort of trance, barely able to listen to what his family was talking about, or even register what they decided when it came to helping Elain use the books. It was impossible to focus on anything when it felt like his life, a dream that had barely started was crumbling right before his eyes. He only tunes back in when the meeting is over and most of the Inner Circle starts leaving, hoping he can at least go rest from his flight, take a long bath and find a quiet place to be alone and digest these life changing last few hours.

He was already on his feet, dragging his exhausted body to the door when Rhys called out his name, making him turn around in question. “There's something else we need to discuss.” His brother was always the most perceptive at the worst times. The last thing Azriel wants to do right now is discuss his miserable fate with anyone.

Everyone filters out the room then, even Feyre who drops a kiss on her mate's cheek before following her sister out - a gesture he's more than used to witnessing but bears a different weight today - leaving the two brothers alone in the quiet office. Azriel doesn't move from his spot, standing in the middle of the room with crossed arms as Rhysand studies him, daring him to start the conversation, secretly praying he simply has another mission to send him on instead of the conversation he's almost sure is about to start.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with this keeper?”

Azriel has to physically stop himself from sighing. Why couldn't the Mother let him have a moment after everything that has already happened in the last few hours?

“Nothing happened,” he sounds defensive even to himself, his mind too preoccupied to try and mask his emotions, “She gave me the books and then I left.” This much was true, unfortunately.

Rhys simply hums, always sounding irritatingly sure of himself. “So you wouldn't mind showing me your memories of last night, right? I'd like to take a good look at the temple. It seemed quite intriguing,” he pauses for a second, head tilting a fraction to the side, mouth forming into a smirk, “and so did she.”

A snarl escapes Azriel's mouth at his brother's words. Even if he knew he was being baited, controlling this damned bond was impossible right now. Rhysand's smirk only deepens, like a predator who successfully lured its prey, since his brother gives him the exact reaction he was expecting with that little comment. No wonder Azriel has to work so hard as his Spymaster, it's a miracle Rhys has lived this long.

“You look very defensive of a female you've only exchanged one simple conversation with.”

“Like I said before,” he says, that snarl not quite leaving his lips no matter how hard he tries, “She helped us without a second thought, even more than we expected. I just don't understand why everyone keeps insisting that she might be a threat.”

“I didn't say she was a threat, I simply asked you to show me what she looked like.” The High Lord taps his purple painted nails on the table, waiting for a response. When it becomes clear that Azriel isn't taking the bait, Rhys keeps going, “Can't blame me for being curious of how this keeper beautifully glows under the moonlight. She looked otherworldly, you said?”

The thought of assassinating his loving brother crosses Azriel's mind. He doesn't even know what to respond knowing those were his own words, and any reaction would be amplified by the mating bond. The High Lord had him right where he wanted him.

As he keeps staring at his brother, shadows climbing up his body until most of him is covered from those intense violet eyes, Rhysand's expression changes, a somewhat defeated look replacing the earlier amusement as he accepts that he'll have to pry the truth from his spymaster.

“Azriel, I've known you for over five centuries. I can tell when you're hiding something from me,” his face and tone turning even more serious as he continues, “I also know what a fresh mating bond feels like, the emotions it evokes in us.”

Azriel stares at his brother for another moment, before realizing there was no need to try and pretend he wasn't right, letting out a sigh before sitting down in the chair across from him defeatedly, shadows settling while his wings drooped, enough to touch the floor.

“If you already know, why are you asking me about it?”

“I didn't expect this to be your reaction,” he says, thoroughly studying Azriel's face. “I don't understand why you wouldn't be happy. I know it can be scary, but you've always wanted a mate, Az.”

“There's nothing to be happy about.”

Rhys simply rolls his eyes, “I know a bit more about mating bonds than you do. Trust me there's a lot to be happy about.”

His temper rises at this, emotions still not having settled - he's starting to wonder if they ever will. Even his shadows were becoming overstimulated, not knowing how to soothe their singer in these circumstances.

“Didn't you hear what Amren said? She can't leave the temple, she's bound to it, and I can't go back there since it's hidden under whatever spell that was,” the words almost caught in his throat, “I'm never seeing her again.”

Saying it out loud makes the whole situation unbearably real. It's not often Azriel sees himself in conversation such as these, always one to ignore his feelings for as long as possible, and then isolating himself when they become too much, but his brother knows him too well, as he said before, and was prying out everything too easily.

“I don't even know if she wanted this,” he finds himself whispering.

“Why wouldn't she?”

Azriel swallows all the self-pity, the unworthiness he felt when it came to you, or anyone else really. Diving into these feelings would lead them into a different conversation, one he wasn't sure he could handle, much less right now, and so he opts for the simpler answer.

“She didn't mention the bond once, she was ignoring it – if she even felt it at all,” he leans back and runs his hand through his hair, “my feelings were muddled the whole time I was there so I can't even know for sure.”

“You didn't tell her you were her mate either,” Rhysand reminds him.

Would things have gone a different way if he had? Or would you simply let him down as soon as he brought it up? Did it even matter? Would he be able to survive your rejection?

“She told you the temple showed itself for the people who needed it, right?” Azriel looks up at his brother, nodding. “Seems to me like you need to talk to her.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

You're not entirely sure what one is supposed to do after finding their Mother-blessed mate, and then proceed to send them on their way, possibly to never return. Not being able to get even a wink of sleep and spending the next few hours searching your library for any information on mating bonds seems appropriate though. There wasn't anything written in these books that you didn't already know about mating bonds: extreme attraction, a connection of emotions, feelings of primal possessiveness, the possibility for a love unlike any other.

There was no mention of the silver string you'd seen tied around both of your hearts, but the bond seems to manifest itself differently for everyone, and the magic your Goddess has poured into you was peculiar to say the least. Even Azriel might not have seen or felt it manifest the same way you did, but that doesn't mean it's not there. Denying it is out of the picture at this point.

The section about rejecting mating bonds caught your eye, but it quickly soured your mood. It seems there's no way to reject a mating bond and hope for life to ever go back to normal, especially for males as they would always feel like a part of them was missing. The book didn't exactly go into depth on the topic – there can't be too many other idiots thinking of turning down a mating bond, – so it didn't mention anything about just ignoring the bond. Would it just fizzle out until you could barely feel anything, or would it end up with the same effects of a rejected bond? As much as you knew this bond was doomed from the start, you didn't want to convict Azriel to a lifetime of madness, or even worse. It was bad enough he couldn't get a mate out of you.

After your mood deflates at the bleak prospect for your future, and the sun has already replaced the moon, you decide to indulge yourself for a moment. Since your encounter had been so brief, you ended up not finding out too much about Azriel aside from his name, and, as much as there was a voice nagging at the back of your mind, warning you that trying to learn more about your mate won't help you in successfully ignoring the bond at all, you're still only fae and curiosity got the best of you. How could you not be curious about your mate?

You'd heard stories about a shadowsinger working under the High Lord of the Night Court, but you didn't know if that was him as the High Lord had changed since then. If it was though, this would make him a truly important figure for this court, country even. You can't help but feel proud at the thought.

Your search for information on Shadowsingers soon proves fruitless, not being able to find much else aside from their abilities to communicate with shadows, rare as they are, so you move onto researching winged fae instead, in hopes of finding out what kind he is. There are various kinds, this much you know, but for some reason you've always imagined them all to have feathered wings. It's at times like these that you wished you had traveled more when you were younger.

Most of the day is spent like this, tucked into your favorite sofa in the library, the temple refilling your teacup and offering you little snacks as you search for any bit of information that could help you understand who Azriel is. A tug on your silver string finally pulls you out of the moment, body immediately going into alert as you feel your mate nearing. These feelings are entirely too abstract, there's no way of knowing if he's flying over the temple or simply a bit closer than he had been an hour prior - which could still be halfway across the Night Court. You'd also found in one of the books that mates could attempt reaching out to each other through the bond, the descriptions of the resulting feeling appearing quite similar to what you were experiencing at the moment.

You try to ignore it and carry on reading your book on wings - the irony not lost on you - but the string keeps tugging incessantly, even more firmly now, and you suddenly get the feeling that he was actually close, possibly even trying to reach out at the same time or following the bond.

Had he come looking for you? You told him the temple kept itself hidden unless the visitor needed something from within these walls and the Goddess allowed them passage. He had to know that he wouldn't find anything more than trees and shrubs in this forest, the temple keeping itself out of sight even if he had been here before and knew its exact location, such were the wards around this place.

Putting away the book and sitting up on the sofa, you wonder what you should do. There's no way of communicating with him, and you won't be able to let him in, no matter how desperate you were since that decision was not your own to make. Your role was to protect the temple, but you knew he wasn't a threat either. Were you to simply stand by and watch while he looked for you, only to be met with silence? The Mother seems to have a twisted sense of humor.

As you were preparing yourself mentally for what you assumed were going to be a tough few hours, you feel the unmistakable sign of someone passing through the barrier, prompting you to stand up and winnow straight to the main hall, opening the front doors in a rush, only to find a familiar dark figure waiting for you.

If you weren't witnessing it with your own eyes, if your heart wasn't beating at that rhythm that seemed reserved solely for him, you wouldn't have believed this to be true. Your feet move of their own accord, carrying you towards your mate as he stands at the entrance to your temple, a contagiously hopeful expression on his face as he watches you move to him.

“How did you get here?” You can't help the dumb question, not being able to understand what is happening in the midst of your surprise and every other feeling that came with his presence.

“I needed to talk to you,” he explains in a breathy tone, smiling down at you like he wasn't sure if this would have worked either, if he was actually going to be able to find you.

The Goddess showed him the way, if She hadn't he wouldn't have been able to find you, even with any shadowsinger trick he might have had up his sleeve. Could She know he's your mate? She had been the one to warn you of his arrival the day before after all.

You're still trying to gather your thoughts when he continues, skipping over all the pleasantries as if he couldn't keep the words in any longer.

“You're my mate.”

Hearing the word coming from his mouth makes your heart soar, a tingling feeling spreading over your entire body as if lava was now running through your veins. This was not a confession you needed to hear, but the bond welcomed it anyway.

“I know,” you admit, a bittersweet smile overtaking your features.

“Are you unhappy with it? With me?” You quickly shake your head in denial, but he continues before you have the chance to explain, “I would understand it if you were, and if you don't want the bond, I won't force you to accept it. I promise I will never hurt you.”

Is this what has been going through his mind since he left? That you wouldn't want him? The thought makes you swallow, you've only wanted to spare him as much pain as you could, not hurt him more yourself.

“Azriel, that's not it. There's nothing wrong with you, or any reason I wouldn't want you as my mate” you assure, “but I swore my life to protecting this temple, and I can't physically leave the grounds. That's not fair to you.”

He doesn't seem to be surprised at the information, meaning he was probably already aware of your predicament and decided to come talk to you anyway, but he still takes a moment before speaking, thinking through his words as he watches you, shadows coming up to whisper in his ear.

“Did you make a vow of chastity or anything similar?” The question takes you aback for a second, heat rising to your cheeks at the implication.

“Not explicitly, no,” you clear your throat, “but it's hard to keep a relationship when you're bound to a temple hidden in the middle of nowhere. I can't even walk past the first few steps.”

Azriel looks behind him at your words. If he took a few steps down, you wouldn't be able to follow him, a different set of wards keeping you within these grounds. When he meets your eyes once again, you add carefully, “This isn't a relationship worth pursuing when we both know it won't end up working.”

“I think I would like to decide that for myself,” he says as he takes a small step closer to you, “if you'll allow me.”

“What?”

“I would like to come visit you whenever I can, and get to know you. This… I don't think we should throw away a chance like this so lightly, not without at least giving it a try.” He closes most of the distance between you, raising up his hand and holding his palm up for you to take, “Even if it never becomes a romantic relationship, or if it ends up breaking both of our hearts, I don't want to be the person who didn't fight for something so special in fear of getting hurt.”

You watch his hand as you mull over his words. It's not as if he doesn't make sense in his argument, you're more than aware how downright stupid it is to throw away a mating bond when some people spend their whole lives searching for one, but you're scared, for both of your sakes. Letting your mate into your life, even without accepting the bond, knowing that there will come a time when you will want more from it than what you're capable of having would not simply hurt you both, but change both of your lives beyond recognition – it could even kill you. And yet, staring into his hopeful eyes every little reason why you should be turning him down, walking back into the temple and closing the door behind you, seems to escape your mind.

When his hand lowers slightly, wings drooping as well, possibly taking your hesitation as denial, your hand moves to hold his instinctively, surprising the both of you. You had been kidding yourself into thinking you could fight a bond like this. The smallest sign that your mate would leave and your body moved to keep him by your side. Your decision has been made. You can only hope the Gods will have mercy on you.

“I would like to get to know you too, Azriel,” you say, squeezing his hand in yours as a blinding smile takes over his devastatingly handsome face. “As long as the Goddess shows you the way to the temple, I don't see anything wrong with… talking.”

He lets his thumb run over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips, sending your heart into disarray as he leaves a soft kiss on your skin. A flush covers the tip of his ears, and you catch a flash of the silver string connecting the both of you.

“Then I promise to come see you as often as I can.” He lets your hands fall between you two, fingers still intertwined as you stare at each other like fools. You catch yourself after a moment, thanking the Mother for living in this isolated mountain for once so no one could witness this.

“Do you want to come in? You must be tired after your flight,” you invite, letting go of his hand, missing the warmth of his skin immediately.

His gaze drops to your hand before meeting yours once again and nodding, following you inside into the main hall he had been in before. It looked different in the light of day, his hazel eyes studying it once more.

“I didn't fly all the way here,” he starts, gaze still stuck on the stone covered walls, “I can travel through shadows, similarly to how most high fae can winnow.”

“Oh.” You watch as his shadows move lazily around him, coming up his legs. “Is that one of your shadowsinger abilities?”

“Yes.” You wanted to ask more, your earlier curiosity returning, but you find a conflicted expression when he meets your eyes, you can also feel it in your chest, and so you wait for him to decide if he wants to share it with you.

“I'm not high fae,” he admits.

“Right, the wings,” you let out, much too excitedly, as your eyes fall on the huge appendages on his back, “I've never met anyone with wings, and haven't even heard of featherless wings. I searched in the library for types of winged fae, but most of our collection is a bit outdated, and the Goddess was never too interested in those sorts of things so I couldn't find anything that fit your description.” Your mind finally catches up to your words then, eyes widening before falling to your hands as you play with your fingers, and add lamely, “I have a lot of time on my hands here, and I didn't think I'd see you again so…”

You dare a look at his face when his silence drags on too long, finding him watching you with a surprised expression, wide hazel eyes staring into your white ones. His shadows had crept up his neck once again - singing to him you suppose.

Azriel finally finds his words after another moment, your eyes not straying from his for a second, “I'm Illyrian,” he starts, studying your face carefully before continuing, “As far as I know, we're the only ones whose wings have no feathers.”

“Illyrian?”

“Have you heard of it?” He seems scared somehow, but you're not exactly sure why he would be. You try to remember where you've heard the word before, only taking you a moment to remember them as people who live in the mountains up in the north, and were part of the High Lord's army.

“Yes. I know they're people who live in the mountains, and fought in the war but I didn't even know you had wings,” you gesture to them, “I didn't get much of a chance to travel before I came to the temple, so I've never met any Illyrians.”

“That's all you've heard?” You nod slowly, eyebrows furrowing at his insistence. “Illyrians have an unfavorable reputation. The males train their whole lives to fight, and the females aren't regarded as much more than a means for procreation,” he explains further, “Some have started changing their ways, slowly, but most camps insist on their traditions, no matter how cruel. They- We just don't have a good reputation.”

You start understanding where he was getting at. Some fae had trouble opening their eyes to how the world was changing around them, choosing to remain willfully ignorant to the harm it brought those who were different from them, who they deemed as lesser. He was scared that, had you heard about whatever cruelty he's seen from his peers, you would judge him for it. You feel a little offended that he would think so lowly of you, but the truth is he doesn't know you at all, or you him.

“It's hard to outlive archaic traditions when we live for centuries. I wouldn't ever dream of passing judgment on an entire group of people for the beliefs some of its members insist on clinging onto,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, shrugging as you smile up at him, “and I might be biased, or even wrong, but I think you're very kind, Azriel. You came all the way here to help your friend, with no real proof that you'd find what you were looking for, and then you came back to ask permission to visit me, even when you thought I might not accept it. Cruel is the last word I'd use to describe you. I'd rather go with sweet.”

“Sweet?” He asks, a flush rising to his cheeks and a bashful smile finally erasing that conflicted expression off his face. “You think I'm sweet?” You hum in agreement, your grin growing so large it hurts your cheeks. “I'll have to let my mother know at last someone agrees with her.”

You let out a laugh, the image of a baby Azriel getting showered in praises from his mother entering your mind. You almost have trouble imagining him as a child, but you have no doubts he was more than sweet, adorable even, with his round cheeks and small wings.

“So…” You lean back on your heels, intertwining your hands behind your back. “Do you want me to show you around the temple?”

“I would love to,” he agrees with a blinding smile on his face.

[petit-etoile]

in the moonlight (my darling, do not fear)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 4184 content warnings: mentions of injuries, no in-depth descriptions, minor spoilers for astarion's act ii romance other tags: canon-typical violence, canon complaint, hurt/comfort, whump, developing relationship, love confessions, gender neutral tav, elf!tav archiveofourown: here. sentence prompt: "you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left." — from here. summary: defeating the orthon is no small task. the hardest part is what comes after.

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‘No!’ he shouts, and it’s so loud it echoes on the edges of your mind. ‘You can’t die.’

I’m not dying, you think but the words never leave your lips. In the depths of your consciousness, you can faintly remember the battle with the Orthon. Karlach had killed the displacer beast, hadn’t she? Shadowheart had blinded the Merregon… You remember violent flashes of light and the shaking of the Gauntlet. Trying to remember takes too much energy, and thinking about opening your eyes makes your stomach roll.

‘Get up, damn you!’ Astarion snaps harshly.

He paws at your desperately, shifting rock and ruin, and when he presses his hands to your side, stars flutter behind your eyelids so violently all you can do is moan. It’s your turn to shove at him. You push at his hands and feel your fingers glide against his skin. But I’m too tired, you want to say. I just want to sleep, to dream. Eventually, you give up your fight and relax into the darkness. Maybe when you awaken, the illithid parasite will be gone and you will be cured. You can only hope that it comes true.

Astarion has other plans for you. He curses your name so sweet it could be a perfectly mulled wine and leans forward. His ear tickles your lips, and whatever he hears come from it is enough to make him heave out a relieved sob. His hands are on your face again. His fingers are sticky, and they smell like powder. He jostles you so violently that you groan against your will, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him.

Astarion rests his head against your chest right where your broken collarbone has begun to throb. You struggle to open your eyes and stare at the roof above you, but you don’t see the familiar ceiling of Shar’s Temple. The celestial glowing swirls have been blocked from sight by ugly granite floors. If you really put your mind to it, you can recognize Karlach’s desperate cries on the other side.

‘What happened?’ you whisper.

‘You were supposed to jump down!’ Astarion snarls. ‘Gods, why didn’t you jump down!’

The panic in his voice is enough to make you try harder to retrace your memories. You had plunged your blade into Yurgir’s chest but couldn’t manage to pull it out. It hadn’t killed him. Yurgir had laughed at you, had laughed at your friends  —  He had never hated anyone more at that moment.

It had taken the blade you kept on your hip to finally kill Yurgir. He had dropped bombs, you recall. It comes back to you easily now. Astarion had been right behind you and was going to follow you down, but you were so wounded he insisted on helping you jump away from the bombs before they exploded. But you hated heights, you hated the feeling of falling.

‘Scared,’ you admit.

‘Ha! Scared!’ Astarion repeats, tone pitching up in his hysteria. ‘Karlach was going to catch you!’

‘I couldn’t,’ you say. ‘I was scared. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Astarion.’

A shaky sob escapes his lips. ‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t close your eyes again.’

A shudder of exhaustion runs throughout your body. You want to ask questions. You can feel them on the tip of your tongue, but moving your jaw is more work than you’re currently cut out for. Without craning your neck, you try to assess the damage.

The displacer beast’s claws had torn your sleeve. You remember how its teeth snapped shut close to your face, and how now matter how hard you tried to push it away, its thick neck kept you from escaping. Shadowheart had distracted it with a clone. Desperation had pushed you to follow Karlach up the steps so that you could fight the Orthon. For Raphael’s contract. For Astarion.

You do as you were commanded. You stare at the shaking, makeshift rooftop and blink dust from your eyes as it filters down like mocking snow. Astarion’s head feels particularly heavy at this moment. With a sudden, horrified realization, you fully come to terms with the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You are lying in a puddle of your own blood and too broken to move. Half of the floor you were standing on has fallen beneath you and blocked you from your allies, and the only one at your side is Astarion. It must be like death itself to sit there surrounded by blood while injured. He could heal himself if he drank. You raise your good hand and place it against his white-silver curls.

‘I know I usually offer first,’ you say sheepishly. ‘But if you need a drink  —  ’

‘Have you lost your gods-damned mind?’ Astarion hisses.

Before you can say anything else, he sits up and leans over you. You are easily distracted by his beautiful, marble-like complexion which is marred by the dirt and dust and blood. He’s beautiful.

Astarion’s cerise eyes are frantic. ‘I do not mean to alarm you, but you are dying.’

Like the ceiling’s fate above them, the reality of the situation comes crashing miserably down on top of you. Shadowheart’s spells cannot penetrate the wall that has come between you. You realize it now. You press your hand against the hole in your side delicately and laugh a little, staring at your fingers coated with blood. You close your eyes, but Astarion’s distressed whine has you search frantically for his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, horrified. ‘I’m sorry. I’m  —  Do not hate me.’

‘Please,’ Astarion begs. ‘Just stay awake. Stay with me. Karlach is trying to get through; All you have to do is stay awake, please.’

You search his face for some hint of comfort, but it’s hard to see through the dark spots knotting in your vision. You do your best to push away the panic, to force the tears back into your eyes. You don’t want to die, not yet. Raphael still has to translate the runes on Astarion’s back. Shadowheart wants to finish the gauntlet. You want to save Karlach’s heart, to absolve Wyll’s pact, to save Gale. Selfishly, you want to kiss Astarion again without any of that which comes after. You want to savor the weight of his mouth against yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him again. You swallow harshly. ‘This must be like torture for you.’

Astarion chuckles hoarsely. ‘While you are very tantalizing, this is…nothing compared to two hundred years.’

You smile faintly. Two hundred years of carrion, and now you are laid out in front of him as delicious and forbidden as the feast Raphael offered you once. He ducks out of your view to lay his head on your chest. Though he tries to hide it, you can feel the little shudders of his sobs.

I’m sorry, you think to the ceiling. The weight of Astarion’s head against your shoulder is agonizing to your broken collarbone, but whatever he is doing, he is doing it with such reverence it reminds you of the religious devout and their steadfast adherence to their god.

He burrows his face into your chest, careful to stay small over you, to be mindful of your condition. He tries to balance his breathing so that it’s quieter and less disruptive, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot quell the frightened way his shoulders jump. You close your eyes for a moment just to memorize the sight of it.

‘No,’ he says suddenly, sitting up. ‘You promised. You cannot die, I forbid it. You said you would protect me, and you cannot do that if you are  —  Speak to me, damn you!’

‘’m awake,’ you say tiredly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You cannot,’ Astarion insists.

‘Next time,’ you say, ‘I will jump.’

Astarion shakes his head, and little drops of his tears rain down on your skin. ‘It isn’t the smell of you that makes it hard,’ he confesses brokenly. ‘It isn’t even about the damned Infernal runes. It’s you, everything about you. What is left for a disease like me when someone like you goes away?’

‘You will lead them,’ you tell him.

Astarion’s nose wrinkles at the idea. ‘I am not particularly interested in being the face of a revolution,’ he says. ‘No matter how beautiful I am. I am still a sickness, a beast. You are the only one good enough to lead us.’

‘You are like a sickness, then. A horrible disease,’ you say, mindful of the way his eyes narrow. ‘The only way for me to be cured of you  —  to be the cure for you, is to let you consume me until my body has no fight left, Astarion.’

‘How dare you,’ he says with a coquettish shrug.

You can hear Karlach slowly working through the rest of the rubble now. You hate to feel too hopeful, but you can almost hear the sound of the shattered floor breaking free. They were coming to save you, to save him.

‘That was rather poetic, you know,’ Astarion tells you. He watches your face intently as if afraid he’ll miss out on something exceptional. ‘You’ve never been one to use such gorgeous words.’

‘I wanted to,’ you say softly. ‘For you, my love.’

Astarion’s eyes widen as those words fall seamlessly from your lips. You aren’t sure if he meant to say them earlier. After all, he’s only ever been fond of calling you darling or a delectable little treat, treating you recklessly with careful honeyed words. As if getting any closer to you might coax him into accidental oblivion where your name might leave his lips thus solidifying you as something to be treated with care. A pomegranate seed between his teeth.

The shock doesn’t stay for long. Your eyelashes flutter though you fight against it. The decaying darkness around your vision has almost reached the center. You cry faintly and press a hand against your side, horrified that your blood is still pouring from you even if it is slower now. Perhaps you are running out of blood. You want to tell Astarion to drink it all up before it’s mixed with the sulfur and ash, but words are hard to form. Your heart skips a beat.

Don’t let me go to waste, you beg helplessly, reaching out to his mind when yours is all but gone. A heart-wrenching sob erupts from his chest. When you next awake, there is relatively less action than what was happening before. There are no violent tremors of a floor threatening to collapse. The sound of frantic shoving is absent. There’s only a dim hum in your ears, and the sound of a hushed fire burning well into the evening. You slowly open your eyes and blink away your sleepiness.

Shadowheart’s healing spell still hovers over you, but she’s not in your tent so she must be concentrating somewhere else. Your collarbone still smarts and you can definitely feel every single bruise you’ve ever received in your life, but you feel stronger, fuller. You reach a hand as if to inspect the wound at your side again and find the skin there is closed now.

‘You’re awake,’ Astarion says softly. ‘Thank the gods.’

You sit up quickly and feel the world turn sideways for it. Lightning dances along the back of your eyes as you try to steady yourself, and Astarion reaches out to ground you as you sway back and forth. You wonder just how long he’s been sitting there in your tent waiting for you. Your head throbs faintly once you manage to open your eyes.

‘Thank the gods,’ you echo breathlessly. ‘You brought me back?’

Astarion grimaces as though embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried you back to camp, no,’ he says almost petulantly. ‘You’ll have to thank Karlach for that. But I have sat here since then, I must admit.’

‘Everyone  —  ’

‘Everyone else is fine,’ Astarion interrupts. ‘Halsin aided Shadowheart in your healing. Gale procured herbs, Wyll kept vigil at camp while you slumbered. It was all very twee. You’ll be sad you missed it.’

Astarion raises his chin much like a cat who desires petting. He would never admit it, but you can see it on his face. He’s relieved. If he were anyone else, he might weep for joy at seeing you awake again. It isn’t who he is, so you settle for knowing that he has not left your side since you escaped the Gauntlet.

You sit up further and wave your hand through Shadowheart’s healing spell. It doesn’t disperse as much as you wish, but you ignore it, crawling across your lumpy bedroll so you can wrap your arms slowly around Astarion’s neck. He freezes beneath your touch and begins sputtering, but then you feel his arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the side of your neck.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ you mumble against his ear.

You hear him swallow. ‘I’m not apologizing for yelling at you, if that’s what you want.’

‘I would never ask you to,’ you insist.

Before, you thought it would be a small hug. Something to show your thanks to him. You loosen your arms around him so that he can pull away, but if anything, Astarion drags you closer to him. He hides his face in the spot beneath your ear and inhales deeply, memorizing your healthy scent intently.

The hug lasts longer than you thought it would. It’s almost as healing as the magic, too. You hold Astarion as close to you as he will allow, rubbing circles and tracing his curls at the nape of his neck as if to promise that you will never leave again. You decide to sniff him tentatively as well, and beneath the dirt and ash from the collapse, he still smells like Astarion.

You startle a little when you feel his hand tuck beneath your shirt, his fingers reaching to touch a hint of your bare skin. Someone was kind enough to drag the heavier armor from you, but you still have your bloodied shirt on. Astarion’s cool touch is welcome against your aching spine.

‘I thought,’ he says slowly, ‘that you had sentenced me to a lifetime of loneliness again when you were felled earlier. At first, I was so angry that I thought I might hate you for your mistake. I wanted to kill you myself once the dust had settled.’

‘Astarion  —  ’ you start to say, hopeless apologies on your tongue.

‘You will let me finish,’ Astarion says harshly, though he nuzzles you. ‘Elves reincarnate, but how long does it take? How many years would I be forced to wait before I caught the scent of you on the wind?’

You’re freed from his grasp, but you aren’t allowed to escape far. You both kneel in your tent, one of his hands on the back of your head, the other at the side of your waist where your skin had been ripped open before. Astarion allows you to see him for who he truly is. His eyes are soft, weak when he stares deep into your eyes like he’s afraid he’ll forget you.

‘You have made this sinner a worshiper, though it’s no gods I am on my knees for,’ Astarion says to you. ‘The only hymn I care to rehearse is your heartbeat. The only prayer is your name. I begged the gods for years that they would save me, but you are the only divine who has answered my call.’

Your breath catches in your throat.

Astarion presses his hip into yours. ‘I wanted to wait to tell you,’ he says with a miserable shake of his head. ‘To think more.’

‘You still can  —  ’

‘I cannot,’ he admits. ‘When I close my eyes, all I see is your body beneath mine with your life’s blood spilling from you. You begged me to devour you.’

‘I wanted you to be strong,’ you admit. ‘Before, you told me you were only allowed to dine on creatures who couldn’t think. Who knows how long your strength would have lasted…’

His eyes seem to contain infinite sadness. You try to be intent with your words, but you’re distracted by the way he releases his head to palm your chest, pushing his fingers so forcefully skin it’s as though he’s determined to dig through your flesh to grip your heart in his hand. You’d allow him if he asked.

‘You are so self-sacrificing it’s insulting,’ Astarion snorts. ‘Do you think I would have continued in this realm without you? Never have I felt so selfishly about someone before.’

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Astarion leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. All you can think about is his overwhelming devotion even as you respond to the kiss, melting against the touch. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

And you do miss it. You hate being in the Shadow-Cursed Lands more than you hate the lift in the mountains. Everything is dark and dreary and dead, and your companions are prone to being even more distant and distressed than they were before. You feel as though you are of little hope.

But Astarion kisses you now like a man who is breathing air for the first time. His mouth is hungry and insistent, and his hands cling to your skin more than he’s ever clung to you before. It causes you to blush. It’s unlike him to show such desperation. He’s willing, open, honest  —  yet this kiss is so different from the ones you experienced before. It’s almost chaste. He kisses you like a knight would kiss his charge.

‘But I want this,’ he whispers, breath ragged against your cheek. ‘I want you.’

‘Astarion,’ you murmur. That's all you can say.

He presses his nose against your jaw. ‘Whatever my intentions were before, to the hells with them,’ he says harshly. ‘I want us to be something real, something true if you’ll have me. It’s what you deserve.’

‘I do,’ you confess, almost embarrassed. ‘You must’ve known how silly I felt pestering you. You were the first person I sought out when I returned to camp.’

‘You did have a rather obvious air of desperation about you,’ Astarion says with a small laugh.

‘But I wanted you to come to me of your own accord,’ you continue. You touch the edge of his collar. ‘I lacked confidence. I did not want to force you into something knowing your history.’

He kisses you again. This time, it is a little less chaste. Astarion is determined to devour you, mind, body, and soul. His hands wander as though they’ve never felt your body before, and there’s something anguished about the way he returns to cradling the back of your neck. Your mouth is nothing but a scripture he is determined to practice.

You feel drunk with exhaustion. Having been settled between death and undeath for so long has left you feeling as though there is nothing in your sinew, and Astarion is making matters worse. Your head is filled with nothing but him and his unpredictable mercy. You cling to his shirt and struggle.

What have you done to deserve such boundless devotion? You have listened to, and pleaded with, every emotion he has given you. You’ve taken and given and created anew. Now Astarion becomes. Everything you have given him evolves to become this. When he is finally finished memorizing your mouth, he pulls away and confronts you with barely concealed hunger.

‘Say it,’ he begs desperately. ‘Say you want me too.’

‘I want you,’ you say. ‘Gods, you must know this. There’s nothing I want more.’

‘I wanted to manipulate you,’ he says, horrified. He hides in the crook of your jaw. ‘I wanted to use you as a shield, someone to stand behind.’

‘I am not a very big shield,’ you say.

He doesn’t laugh. ‘I was going to do what I had done before,’ he says. ‘Use your emotions for me as a weapon, but  —  I never want to see you near another weapon for as long as we live. Do you understand?’

You press a kiss to his hair. ‘Shall I stand behind you now?’

Astarion does laugh at that. He faces you fully now, hands cupping your cheeks. ‘You may as well be regulated to nothing but camp duty. You find a place for us to rest, you sew our clothes up when they come back with holes in them. I’d say you could make dinner, but…’

You brush a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes and run your thumbs against the swelling. He’s just as exhausted as you are even if he has yet to admit it. The building’s collapse has left him equally as tired. You encourage him to lay down with you, and he does, curling at your side with his head on your chest.

‘Will you be our fearsome party leader?’ you ask. You close your eyes and try to imagine it.

‘Oh yes,’ he swears solemnly for your sake. ‘I will hold the map and point us in the correct direction. Hopefully my leadership will lead us away from Shadow-Cursed things and back to the streets of Baldur’s Gate. I am so ferocious that whoever controls these parasites will give up upon seeing my muscles.’

You try to imagine your life without the tadpole. It seems relatively empty without Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s bickering, and you would miss the way Halsin and Gale are prone to rambling on about whatever is holding their interest at the time. You’d miss Karlach and her boundless enthusiasm for dancing. You’d miss Wyll, too. You’d miss the way he always watches your back.

Would you have met them in Baldur’s Gate? Would Astarion have picked up your scent and chased you down an alleyway intent on drinking your blood? He would be as he was before, angry and cruel and distant. For a moment, you’re almost grateful that the mindflayers had kidnapped you that morning. The circumstances surrounding it were dire, and you hated the gross wiggling the worm was prone to doing when it wanted you to be authoritative, but you would miss them.

‘I don’t regret it, you know,’ you say suddenly.

‘You do not regret what, exactly?’ Astarion asks. ‘Getting blown up and nearly dying? You should.’

You snort despite your best attempts not to. You press your palms against your eyes and try to keep from laughing too hard. For what it’s worth, Astarion does let out a small chuckle. You can hear his frown.

‘Aye,’ you relent. ‘I suppose I do regret nearly dying and. I don’t regret what came before it. If Raphael asked me to strike down all of the gods so that he would translate your back, I would do it without asking a question. You deserve to know.’

‘I cannot overstate how…appreciative I am of that,’ Astarion says finally. ‘But, just so you know, I would do the same for you without question. I have most of the time. I trust at least a third of your decisions.’

‘All of the decisions I make,’ you begin.

But Astarion interrupts, ‘I am sure you make them with everyone’s best interest in mind. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes you end up blown to bits.’

‘I do not regret letting you feed from me,’ you say, pretending he never opened his mouth. ‘I do not regret the silly way I fell into your honeyed words. I do not regret killing the Orthon. I do not regret you.’

‘We’ve barely just begun.’

You swallow. ‘And I will see it through until the end of time,’ you say. You’re fully aware that it’s too soon to make sweeping grand declarations of love, but you can’t stop yourself from saying. ‘You will never be alone again.’

You take Astarion’s silence in stride. You want him to know that he isn’t the only one capable of saying disgustingly romantic things. In the wake of your unconsciousness, you feel a rush of things you haven’t felt in quite some time. Life felt dreary in the mountains and worse in the Underdark. You hate when your world feels as though it’s crushing you. Now, even in the dark, it’s as if the sun shines on your face.

‘I love you,’ you say.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you,’ you repeat, this time with more meaning. You try to roll onto your side, but your shoulder fusses too much. ‘I want you, and I want this. Forever.’

‘Forever,’ Astarion repeats, a sense of wonder entering his voice as he toys with the taste of it on his tongue. Once again, he sits above you, his head pressed against your chest, shaking as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat beneath your skin. ‘I like the sound of that.’ You smile at the sound of a purr in his voice, and allow yourself to imagine what forever means.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

One really tiny but really flavourful detail in BG3 for me is one of the steps in the "Find the Nightsong" quest. The quest in itself is a big fave of mine, not just because of its buildup and dramatic twist and the fact that it deals with my personal favourite character, but also because of the way it winds through all three acts of this immense game. Here, though, I want to highlight a small and relatively early portion of it.

Initially, when you are sent after the mysterious and much sought-after relic called the Nightsong - classic adventurer stuff, really, there's even a wizard in a tower who'll pay you for it - all you have to go on are rumours that it is hidden in an old Selûnite temple in the region you happened to crash in. And sure enough, you explore the cool temple ruins, maybe you do a little puzzle-solving to open a sealed moon-themed door leading to a passage deep below - or you get into the Underdark via one of the other routes available. In any case, once there, you find the tragically doomed underground outpost some of the temple's residents tried to establish, as well as several records of their final hours. But there are no signs of the Nightsong or anything related to it ever being there at all. At that point you have no more info to go on, and your quest journal updates to say so:

Explore the Underdark. The trail goes cold in the Underdark. Where is the Nightsong?

Except... there is something here. And that something is a book - not an ancient record, but a recent publication: This tome appears fairly new-printed; it can't be more than a decade or two old, the item description says. But above all, it is very conspicuously and prominently placed at the foot of the large statue of Selûne that dominates the remnants of the outpost (and that, as part of its defenses, shoots rather deadly magical moonlight beams until you disable it).

The book is called "In Search of the Nightsong". It is marked as a quest item and it is there purely to provide you with a lead and to bridge the gap until the next bit of insight into the Nightsong you will get (which is at this point probably quite a ways away in Act 2, other than the possible tidbit around Nere and the collapsed bridge as you approach one possible end of Act 1). You are absolutely meant to find it and read it.

Fascinating that such a seemingly valuable object has proven so difficult to track down. Indeed, treasure-hunters the realm over have travelled to the Sword Coast with one goal in mind: To find the Nightsong. Yet each by each they have failed, indicating dead ends, rebuffs, or else disappearing altogether. My latest enquiry was with a half-orc named Graly, who insisted he'd come as close as possible to the relic as one may go without forfeiting his or her life. He indicated that the object is not, as most reports indicate, in the Selûnite fort adjacent to the river Chionthar. It is, in fact, held in an old Sharran fortress somewhere in the environs of Moonrise Towers. However, Graly reported that some kind of potent shadow prevents one from approaching where this fortress might be.

In fact, your next quest journal update comes from going into your inventory and reading the book:

Find the Sharran Temple. We found a book that told of a secret Sharran temple that contains the Nightsong. It is hidden underground, somewhere near Moonrise Towers.

How did this recently-published book end up sitting there, just waiting for you to read it, in the sealed, long-abandoned outpost, beset on all sides by unfriendly crowds of goblins, drow, minotaurs, a spectator, you name it? And why is this cool to me? Well, it's a bit meta, but it turns out that Selûne, She Who Guides, goddess of, among other things, questers, seekers, navigators, and the lost finding their path, has more than earned her title. And indeed, here we see that both in gameplay and in lore, Selûne guides.

In this particular case, though you don't know that yet, she's guiding you, both the character and the player, to hopefully save her long-lost daughter.

[citruswriter]

Answered Prayers

Astarion x Reader 💛

Warnings: Spawn Astarion, Reader is an angel, Reader is wearing a dress (put on the damn dress Joe, idc if ur a man), oral (f receiving), afab reader but mostly gn.

Listen in with me! ♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

White feathered wings stretched out, unfurling and reaching for the heavens. "I could be your guardian angel," you reasoned, voice still low as you hovered your lips over his, leaving the next move in his hands in whatever game of chess you seemed to be playing. Ruby red eyes marveled at the sight of your well kept secret. "I wouldn't offer it if I didn't mean it, I wouldn't show you if I didn't trust you". Astarion stared at you in adoration, lips meeting yours in a gentle passion. "Pray to me, my love," you spoke softly as you folded your wings lightly around the two of you. "I will always answer". Astarion kissed you, hands moving to peel the loose dress you had been wearing off your angelic body. "I guess I could give prayer another shot then, little love". He murmured, pushing you to lay down. "I believe you're supposed to bow your head, correct?" He asked, but before you could answer he ducked his head down between your legs, causing you to gasp in delight. Elvish curses you had picked up from the white haired man himself left your mouth as he ate you out, legs slung over his shoulders as he ate his meal. He whispered praises to you, pausing at times to kiss your inner thighs. Such a divine being you are, and you were all his.

Standing in the ruins of the shrine you stood in the moonlight. Breathing deeply, eyes closed, blissed out on the cold night air. This had been a special side quest. As the others camped out somewhere else, you had only taken Astarion with you to complete this personal quest of yours. "I never understood the need for gods..., " Astarion muttered. You opened your eyes slowly and turned to look over your shoulder to him, "Have you never felt drawn to the divine?" You asked, blinking in slight surprise. Astarion scoffed and walked closer to you, studying the broken marble stone, the only thing that had been left intact seemed to be what appeared as an offering table. Dried flowers and old rusty coins littered across it. "I've prayed to all of them. None of them ever answered me". He said bitterly. You drug yourself up to sit on the offering table, Astarion moving to let you only to take place between your legs, hand reaching up to brush a loc of your hair back.

"Maybe you shouldn't pray to gods then," you whispered shakily, kissing his neck softly. Something about being in the old temple, old divine energy mixed with the cool night air, seemed to intoxicate you in a sense. Astarion laughed softly and cradled your face, "Then who, or rather what, should I pray to? Hm, little love?" he questioned, sensing your almost high state of mind. "Me," was all you said before a large flash if light came from behind you.

You laid there as his tongue swirled around your pearl, causing you to jerk your hips, "Astarion! Astarion please!" You gasped out. He stopped and looked up at you, thumb taking his tongues place as he rubbed it. "Yes my treasure?" He answered. "Please, my love, please I need you. Need you in me. Stuffing me full," your tone was so loving yet so needy. How could he ever tell you, his guardian angel, no? He didn't take long to join you, skin touching skin. Soft flesh meeting cold skin as he touched you. He wasted no time burying his length into your velvet walls, wasted no time setting a solid pace in you. He relished in the noises that fell from your mouth, soft moans and cries of pleasure. Only noises he could draw from you. "Angel of my heart," he began speaking as he set a brisk pace in you, "please watch over me and guide me." Wings trembled as he continued to pray. "Protect me from my troubles and grant me victory. So be it." Reaching for your wings, he dug his fingers into the base, causing you to arch and mewl from pleasure. You gripped onto his arms in a poor attempt to ground you in reality.

"I swear," you panted, "I will guide and protect you. I will guide you, my hand in yours". Nails dug into your wings, ripping a cry of pleasure from you as you let them unfurl and drape onto the ground. "Anything for you, beloved. You deserve everything," you whispered to your lover as he held onto you, gripping onto you with utter devotion. Tangled limbs desperately holding onto each other in divine bliss, lips uttering praise like a last prayer, efforts to bring pleasure to the other as if it were an offering. Astarion's movements stuttered as he reached his end. "A-Are you close, darling? Want you to cum with me," he panted out, moaning in your ear. You nodded and let out a high pitched "Mhm", legs wrapping around his waist. He looked down at you and burned the image in his mind. You, all fucked out with sweat making your plush flesh glisten in the moonlight. White wings elegantly draped down, eyes half closed in lustful bliss, gaze filled with utter adoration. You were a sight to behold. A beautiful, messy sight to behold. Maybe the gods did hear his pleas for help. Maybe you were the answer to all of his pleading. Maybe you just needed to find him first. Astarion crashed his lips against yours as the two of you unraveled in your ecstasy.

The two of you panted, momentarily staying still in an attempt to catch your breath. Climbing off of you, he helped you stand up, wings stretching out to shake off any dust before you folded them once again. "Let's get back to camp and I'll clean you up and make you a warm drink, sound good?" He offered and you hummed, nuzzling into him. "Only if I get to clean you up back and rub your scalp". You counter offered, making the man in front of you grin as he helped you dress. "Of course, little love".

▂▃▄▅▆▇█▓▒░ BONUS ░▒▓█▇▆▅▄▃▂

"I love you so much Astarion," you hummed as you curled up into him, nuzzling his neck. "And I am loving these wings," he said back as he pet the soft fibers of the wing you had wrapped around the two of you. "Say it back or I'm taking them away," you demanded with a sleepy pout. "Oh hush up. I love you too, darling". He said back, planting a kiss on your forehead. As you slipped off into slumber, Astarion watched over you for a few more hours, marveling at the creature he had the honor of calling his lover. Drawing you closer to him, he fell asleep peacefully. Maybe the gods didn't answer him, maybe they did. But it didn't matter. Because you always would. And that's all that mattered.

I'm very iffy on this one. Idk if I like it very much but I had already written this two other times and if I rewrite it a third time, I might just burn myself out. So enjoy, my dears. 😭

[fancyfeathers]

Rain and Dirt (Yandere Rex Lapis/Zhongli x Goddesses!Reader)

Chapter Five, Not All That Glitters is Gold

Sequel to The Moon Will Sing and Time Alone

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Summary: Stories are told of Rex Lapis the God of Contracts and his darling the Goddess of the Moonlight, but what people do not know is the truth of what their relationship really is. People think at Rex Lapis’s death that his wife would be the first to weep, but what if she is the first to smile.

When you were young, still a child in the standard of a god, you remember the feeling of the water going up to your ankles as your younger self reached into the waters to pick up shells, sand dollars, and sea glass. You help your skirt out to make a makeshift basket of the bits and bobs you found, but the sand that came with them would be a pain to clean up later. Your sister sat on the sand flying a kite and watching it soar up into the air, one of your older brothers at her side helping her guide it and keep it from flying off if she let go. The sun bore down on the island today, to mortals you suppose it would be far too hot but to you it was a perfect summer’s day.

You could hear the sound of your other older siblings chatting behind you, laughing and enjoying the day. It was rare the days you could see each other like this, most of your siblings had their own duties to tend to and even a few of them made their homes in other nations. You and your sister were still so young and you still had yet to figure out your places in the world, you were not like your siblings, not yet anyway.

“(Name), come here.” You heard the voice of your eldest brother call out to you from where he sat on the sand. You walked over and stood in front of your brother who was sitting by your other siblings. You felt him reach his hand up to brush some sand that you had gotten on your cheek. “Don’t want to get sand in your eyes, now do you?”

“No.” You shook your head and you felt his hand guide you to sit down in the sand, among your family. As you sat down your hand slipped from your skirt and all the hidden gems you found were laid out before you for all your siblings to see. You heard one of your older sisters laugh and grab you and picked you up and sat you on her lap, her hands coming to brush through your sandy hair with her delicate hands. 

“Oh dear, it seems like sand has ruined your hair as well and I spent so much time on it before we came out here.” You heard your older sister give a heavy sigh before it faded into a light laugh. “Well I suppose it can’t be helped.”

You heard your eldest brother hum in thought before he stood up, collecting all your treasures you collected from the sea in his arms. “Well, I think I know just the place to keep these safe and get that sand out of your hair so our dearest sister will stop throwing such a fit.”

“Osial!” She spoke with a gasp while the rest of your sibling laughed at his words and her reaction. Your brother held a hand down to you, his other arm cradling your treasures. You took his hand and he pulled you to your feet and he walked forward, guiding you to the ocean.

You dove down into the salty water of the sea, the refreshing wave of coolness hit your skin. It has been so long since you have roamed freely in Liyue Harbor, let alone the sea. Your husband always hated you stepping into open waters in “fear” that something would attack you or that you would drown, both were physically impossible for you but your husband somehow had the constant belief that you must have been made of glass. Or what you thought was really the case is that you would have attempted to run away. 

You swam to the depths of the sea, the wish coming to rub against your skin, almost like a cat seeking affection. You pushed away the seaweed and the algae that had grown here in your brother’s absence. You remember when your brother used to take you here, a temple hidden under the ocean’s surface. You and your sister used to use this place as your playground before you moved along to find your home, like baby birds leaving the nest, except you didn’t fly forever, your wings were clipped.

You pushed down that thought, he was dead now, he could not hold you down any longer. You swam into the ruins that were once a beautiful spectacle of art, now partially destroyed in your brother’s battle with your husband. You swam past rooms full of gems and gold of all sorts, your siblings’ treasures. Your childhood treasures took a different form, your little cove that your brother made for you was full of your seashells, sand dollars, and other precious little things you adored as a child. You dug through the piles of your treasures, looking for something, something you had left of your family that you had hidden away here as a child so as to not lose it, it was the last thing your father had given you before you and your sister came of age, and your parents disappeared. 

You felt your hand wrap around the hilt of a dagger, you pulled it out from the pile. In your hand was a beautiful dagger made of coral. It seems a silly thing to have, but if you knew what it could do, it was made by a god to kill other gods but you could remember your father’s voice telling you... 

“Be careful with this my dear, while this dagger is powerful it should only be a last resort for it can be used once. You must learn how to lean on your own power and learn how to hone it to protect yourself and others around you.”

It was something you wish you did not hide away because if you had it you might have avoided your fate. Having what you came for, you tucked the dagger away and began to swim back to the surface, trying to avoid looking at anything else, this was a graveyard of memories now, abandoned, forgotten. Some of them you heard stories about, being painted as villains in the history of Teyvat, but they were no such things. You knew who they really were, they were brother and sisters to you, husbands and wives to their spouses, sons and daughters to your parents, wherever they might be. They were your family, and because they did not win, they were painted as villains. That made you thin, you did not win, but Liyue adored you…

Wait…

You forgot…

History is written by the victors.

You returned to the harbor after changing out of your sopping wet dress, into a set of spare clothing you brought with. You heard Lumine and Paimon had returned from the abodes of the Adepti early yesterday but you have not seen them yet. After your encounter with Childe you discussed the terms of your deal with him, this dagger was the first of his requests but you had to remind him of the warning your father gave you, which he only nodded off. Under normal circumstances you would not have given such a thing to him but given recent events and Childe’s end of the deals, the risk was worth the rewards. 

You climbed the stairs of the builds of Liyue Harbor, heading towards the Northland Bank where Childe told you to meet you, but it was later than expected, the swim took far longer than you remembered but perhaps your memory has slipped you in these last few thousand years or perhaps the waters have changed with the appearance of Liyue Harbor and the ships that came with it, far different from your days when much of Teyvat was the wilds. 

As you approached the Northland Bank the attendant outside nodded and opened the door for you. The building of the interior of the back felt off putting as always, but this was something you could shrug off for the most part. You walked up to their counter and the woman behind it. “Excuse me, but is Childe here. I have an item he requested of me.”

“No, I’m afraid not but he did tell me to expect you, so I can give that to him upon his return.” The woman spoke to you politely, and based on her words it seems the Harbinger figured you may be late. “Unless you would like to give it to him personally in which case you may find him at Liuli Pavilion.”

“Oh no, that will not be necessary, just see to it that this gets delivered to him upon his return, and do be careful with it. Whatever you do, do not touch the blade.” You took out the dagger, the blade wrapped up in cloth and you handed it off to her which she seems to place in one of the compartments behind her with the most delicate movements. “Oh and do let Childe know when he wishes to speak with me again he may most likely find me at the docks, down by the water.”

“I will and do take care.” As you were about to give your farewell to her, you heard the door to the bank open and close. You glanced over your shoulder, just to catch a glimpse of who it was and you smiled when you saw who.

“Hello Lumine, Paimon.” You spoke to them so kindly but the moment they saw you, their smiles dropped. It took you a moment to piece together why but when you realized your smile faded as well. “I take it that you went to the place I spoke to you about?”

“…yes.” Lumine pressed her lips together, deep in thought of what to say to you next, and you could understand why. “…what was that place? Those chains?”

“Well…” you glanced over at the Fatui agent behind the counter and then back at Lumine. “Meet me at the docks when you are done with your business, I’ll explain everything to you there.”

“Alright.” Lumine gave you a nod and you turned to make your way outside, ready to spend the day to just relax. “Miss (Name)…”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

After what Lumine saw, it was the least she could say after seeing that…

—————————

Lumine and Paimon had just met with the two Adepti on Mount Hulao and Mount Aozang and were ready to head out to the Wangshu Inn to meet the last she was told about. She hiked through the tall grass of the karst. The grass tickled her legs as she traversed the landscape of Liyue. 

“The place Miss (Name) told us about should be around here somewhere.” Lumine’s floating companion spoke in her high pitched voice. Lumine ran her hand along the stone that formed the base of the mountain, feeling past the vines that hid the stone from their eyes. “It has to be- ahh! Lumine!”

Lumine’s hand that was tracing the stone found what they were looking for, her hand met no stone and she fell back, past the vines, finding the entrance of the cave. Lumine fell flat on her ass upon her surprise entry into the cave, her floating friend flying down to join her in the dark place. The cavern was completely deprived of natural sunlight, the only thing lighting the carver were the large crystals of cor lapis that lit up the place. Lumine led them deeper and deeper into the cave, looking around as she did so, being cautious of her surroundings.

“Paimon wonders why Miss (Name) would have us come here, seems creepy.” Paimon was holding onto Lumine’s scarf, almost scared to let go.

“I don’t know, but she wouldn’t send us here if it wasn’t important to see.” Lumine replied as they made their way down the tunnel. Soon they came to the main area of the cave, a massive empty chamber but unlike the rest of the cave there was no cor lapis to light the way, only the light in the distance from the tunnel. It also felt painfully dry in the cave, like all the moisture was being sucked away. The dryness and the dustiness of the cave nearly sent Lumine into a coughing fit, Paimon was a different story with the dust who could not stop coughing after breathing it in. “It’s so dry in here, are you alright Pai- huh what’s that?”

In the center of the cave Lumine spotted something glowing that was thrown on the ground in the center of the chamber. She got closer to it and soon began to make out what it was, chains…

“What is this?” Lumine spoke, looking down at them in confusion. She kneeled down to get a closer look, they were chains of cor lapis, made with shackles that were clearly intended for something or someone. She also noticed how the ends of the chains seemed to meld into the stone so that if someone was locked up in here escape would be impossible. When she reached down to touch them a large pulse of energy spread throughout her body, sending shockwaves that immediately knocked her back onto the ground, flat on her back. Lumine sat up, looking down at the chains with even more confusion, but then it clicked for her. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

You were kept here.

“Are you alright Miss Lumine?” Childe had set up this meeting at Liuili Pavilion with Lumine and “the one who could break this stalemate,” as Childe referred to him as. It was over food since that was apparently common for business meetings in Liyue. “You look quite pale, are you ill?”

“Hm?” Lumine was snapped out of her thoughts by the man’s question, she was thinking about what she saw in that cave. Was that truly for you? If so, what did you do to deserve it? You seemed so kind, so generous to her and Paimon. Was this what you were referring to when you said this place holds too many painful memories for you? Lumine picked up her tea cup, looking down at the hot liquid that reflected her face. “I’m alright, just lightheaded from my travels.”

“That is good, I am glad you have nothing serious.” The man took a sip of his drink, his golden eyes closing slightly as he blew over the sip he was about to take. 

“Yes I’m fine.” Lumine looked up at him and smiled before taking a sip of her own and setting the tea cup down on the table. “But thank you for asking, Mr. Zhongli.”

—————————

You sat at the docks once more, your feet dangling over the edge, your toes dipping into the water below. You hummed, folded your hands on your lap, and closed your eyes, enjoying the setting sunlight that hit your skin. You heard footsteps approaching you, but you recognized these. You opened your eyes and glanced over your shoulder at Lumine, she wore a smile but still looked frazzled probably after what she saw there. You patted the spot next to you, gesturing for her to sit. She sat down next to you but kept her legs pulled up so as to not get her shoes wet. 

“I am guessing you want to know the story of that place?” You asked, watching her expression and you saw her eyes narrow a bit on the waters before the two of you. She nodded but did not say a word, probably not knowing what to say. “Very well, our story begins in ancient Liyue. I had many siblings, but one twin sister and the two of us took to a village, becoming its protectors. We lived there for many years, taking care of it, and avoiding the other gods of Liyue by pure chance. We became forgotten gods but we were content with that. One night when I was looking over the village, I met a man and we talked and he told me that one day Liyue will know who I am even if I was a forgotten goddess. Then one day, my sister left to explore Teyvat and I did not go with her.”

“You told me about that before, so your sister was a goddess?” Lumine asked, politely cutting in.

“Yes, she was or rather is I hope, if she is still alive. I did not wish to leave but without my sister there was no way I could protect the village alone, so without thinking I prayed and asked the god of Liyue to help protect my people, without thinking on the consequences. Many days passed before that came into being, my home was attacked and when I was almost killed he appeared.”

“Rex Lapis?”

“Yes, he defended this village, making good on his side of the contract, then there was mine. He asked…” You paused on your words, asked was not the right word for what happened. “… he said it was my duty on my end of the contract, since I said I would do anything that night when I prayed, to enter a life long contract with him, marriage. I refused, but Rex Lapis once said ones who break their contracts shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock, and that is what happened to me.”

“So that cave…”

“I was there for hundreds of years, five hundred years alone, that was my punishment. I remember the pain of those chains everytime I moved, the pangs of hunger, I may be immortal but one of the downsides of taking a human form is that you can feel the pain you just cannot die from it, and then there was the dryness of the cave making a fitting prison for the goddess of rain and moonlight.” You looked at Lumine’s face to see it one of pure horror, she actually looked like she was going to be sick. “You asked me why I did not mourn him, and to that I say why would I? I will not play the grieving wife and lie saying that I miss him. People praise my marriage to him, saying how devoted w e are to one another, my devotion was out of fear. I did not sit at his side as his equal, I sat at his feet, the equivalent of a pet. The only difference is that I was called wife.” 

[softmangoes]

true terror | ivory wraith x pc

18+ only

the sun dips below the horizon, tinging the waters of the lake with the day's final golden rays.

you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of pine and the cold crisp of autumn. the wait is over: there will be a blood moon tonight.

before, you would await for that familiar pull to tug on your soul and reel you into the depths of the lake. those first few nights had felt like something out of a dream: a face made of moonlight, hands that brushed your skin as if to make sure you were real, eyes like shards of the night.

but at this point, you have made marking your calendar to count down the days a science. you have stowed away a bag of spare clothes in the forest. the waves lap at your ankles, beckoning you closer. you are so tired, so sore, and all you want to do is be engulfed by something that shouldn't even be possible.

once you wade until the waters have reached your chest, you take another breath and dive.

"beloved," a familiar voice hums once you surface. you don't quite hear his voice so much as feel it. the specter's joy feels bright, like the gleam of moonlight illuminating the crevices of your soul.

with a grunt, you climb onto the stones, gripping the length of rope you anchored into the ruin during your last visit. the inside of the old temple is lit with a soft glow. he is here. the abomination. the monster. the ghost that haunts you and your heart.

you expect to see his gentle smile to celebrate your arrival. but at the sight of you, the wraith falls silent.

he sees the bruises darkening your throat, listens to your ragged breaths, watches as the tears swell and stream from your eyes.

"i missed you," you say, trying to manage an assuring smile. oh, he's so beautiful. you don't want to ruin your time together with your pain. "i didn't want to keep you waiting."

like a wave, the specter surges in front of you. his hands are balled into fists.

"who made you weep?" he says slowly, reeling in his rage as a riptide pulls a current back to the depths of the ocean.

"i'm fine," you begin to say, but before you can continue, the wraith extends a cold hand to your face and wipes a tear from your cheek. he brings his finger to his mouth, tastes the wet bead of your sorrow.

in that moment, the wraith sees the memory of a vile figure of a man with dark hair and an even darker heart. his hands are around your throat, telling you that you are worthless. that you better pay up or else.

when the specter's eyes open, they are nothing but endless wells of blue. his expression is placid. glassy. the calm before the storm.

"i will rend their flesh from their bones." ghostly tentacles manifest around him, writhing and roiling in the air as if itching to capture and constrict their prey. "they will bear witness to true terror."

"hey," you say softly, taking one of their hands in yours. you two only ever have so much time. already, the moon begins to wane. "i'm okay, alright? i promise."

the wraith softens. his tentacles calm. you are just how you have always been. how he has always loved you: gentle, optimistic, hopeful.

and in all the lives you have lived, you have always been a bad liar.

"the world is unkind." he gathers you into his arms and presses his lips against your temple. "but here, you will always be safe."

you sigh, the tension of the last few days leaving your body. it is only in the arms of an aberration that you can finally find solace. after a few moments, you fall asleep to his fingers running through your hair and the hum of a song that sets your soul at ease.

but soon the night ends as it always does. the wraith places your sleeping form back onto your bed.

his eyes are as red as the moon.

you are safe, as he promised. the hunt begins. you do not hear the screams that pierce through the night.

when you wake up the next morning, bailey's office is empty. you do not see him the day after. or the next.

[pinkanonwrites]

Inspired by @trigunwritings musings with a like-minded anon on his blog, I present to you some musings of my own.

NSFW Vash/Reader below the cut! GN! Reader, no specific pronouns used. Alien biology Vash, if you aren’t into that read at your own risk

“I’m so sorry!”

“You really don’t need to apologize, baby.”

It didn’t really matter how many times you’d insisted though, or tried to reassure him. Vash was still going to be embarrassed.

Because, in his mind, things had been going well. Really well. Well enough that in the only slightly cramped hotel bed the two of you were sharing for the night he’d somehow managed to get you laid out before him, your nude form bathed in silvery moonlight and your hair strewn out across the pillows. But instead of ravishing you like he’d intended, like he’d promised, face hot with blush as his lips pressed to the shell of your ear and he murmured all the dirty little things he couldn’t wait to do for you?

Instead of any of that, he was here, head bowed, kneeling at the far end of the bed from you, cock stubbornly refusing to stay hard.

You were most certainly not the issue in this equation. Vash had never done anything to make you doubt his attraction to you, even now. But Vash’s distinct and very touchy relationship with his own body image definitely decided to rear its ugly head at the worst possible times, fear prickling coldly in the back of his mind regardless of how badly he wanted to be intimate with you. Even now he was refusing to make eye contact, gaze glassy and posture slumped with palpable humiliation. In his mind everything had been going so well, and instead of letting him have one good thing, one little spark of safety and pleasure and joy, his stupid, weird, alien body decided to ruin it all for him again. He glared down at his lap, eyes burning, as if his frustration, embarrassment, and sheer force of will alone would be enough to draw his cock from where it was tucked safe away in the snug heat of his body.

You couldn’t help but frown. Not out of disappointment, mind you, but because Vash looked so damn fed up with himself that your bleeding heart couldn’t help but call out in response. You opened your arms to him, making grabby motions with your fingers.

“Come snuggle with me, Vash?” His gaze flickered up to your soft, hopeful expression, only darting away again when he realized he’d accidentally made eye contact. “Please?”

He nodded, so softly, and clambered forward into the space next to you on the bed. Immediately you were upon each other, a tangle of limbs as he curled his face into the crook of your neck and you pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. He moaned softly, the mere act of being within your arms bringing him tremendous relief. Your leg nudged in between his, pressing your thigh up against his crotch, a smear of slick warmth grazing across your knee as you nestled yourself closer. Even with his cock sheathed away like this, stubbornly refusing to stay hard for him or for you, there was an eager, wet warmth pulsing between his legs that demanded attention.

“This okay?” You murmured, pressing your thigh up against his pussy again and getting a shaky inhale in response. Hand finding the small of his back you urged him to roll his hips against you, giving him another soft kiss against the temple when he did, however shakily.

“Feels... Feels good.” He rumbled, breath hot on the jut of your collarbone. “But you’re not-?”

“Move your leg up. Right here.” You wriggled your other arm in between your sweaty bodies, patting the top of his thigh. He complied, shifting it upwards until his upper thigh was pinned between your legs, pressed hot and sturdy against your crotch. “Now move again.”

There was a little more confidence in his motion this time, a little more insistence. As he humped against your thigh his own leg shifted deliciously between yours, grinding up against you in a way that made your breath stutter in your chest. Vash moaned, wrapping both arms around your back and pulling you as tight against him as he could, pressing his body into yours at every point of contact, everywhere he could possibly reach.

“You’re so warm, Vash.” Every time his name passed your lips it was like a jolt ran through him, leaving him unable to stifle his soft, needy whines. “My good boy, so obedient for me, so pretty.”

“Mmmh... Again?” He pressed a wet kiss to your jawbone before pulling back, eyes not glassy with unshed tears now but with soft submission, a borderline desperation to have you tell him all the things that normally he wouldn’t be able to believe about himself. You kissed him; hot, open mouths meeting as his tongue found yours, sloppy and frantic.

“My pretty boy.” You mumbled between kisses, Vash refusing to fully let his lips leave your own as he chased your touch and your praise. “You just wanna make me feel good, right? Well this is perfect. Stay right here with me, Vash.”

“Yes.” He gasped, shuddering as his hips stuttered weakly along your thigh. “Yes, love you, j-just wanna feel you, please.” You felt slick and melty everywhere he touched you, his arousal smearing across your knee and Vash’s drool and tears wetting your face as he messily kissed you.

In a while you’d definitely want to have a discussion with Vash about how no matter how he was feeling about himself or his body, you would always be there to support him. That he could trust you not to be disappointed in him for struggling to accept his appearance, and that just like you knew you could rely on him, he could rely on you in turn. That you loved him, and that wasn’t going to suddenly stop just because he couldn’t fuck you the way he’d promised.

But for now you just needed Vash, and he needed you in turn. Whatever way that you could have him would be more than enough.

[sanjisblackasswife]

The aphrodisiac fic for sanji was so good 💖💖💖 could I possibly request (if you're down for it) like the aftermath of it where the reader is exhausted and like very dazed and he does the aftercare, I feel like he'd feel lowkey guilty for being so rough and forceful he would be so sweet right after when things calm down 😭

A/N: OH MY GOSH I WAS JUST SAYING I WAS PROBABLY GANNA DO THIS FROM A LAST ANON COMMENT LOLOL ok here I gotchu.

Aftercare with Sanji (Post Aphrodisiac Sex)(FLUFFY AF)

This is a continuation of THIS fic of the aphrodisiac fiasco so if you would like to get up to speed feel free to read that first! I will be Doing Luffy and Zoro later!

CW: A whole LOTTA fluff, post sex regret, a bit of crying, Sanji being a sorrow’ed mess, amazing aftercare, lots of love, kisses

-

It was 1:30am, and it’s been about almost an hour since Sanji’s drug wore off and you both finally passed out from what you believed as probably the best sex you ever had.

LIKE EVER.

However your body felt otherwise, you were laying on your back, eyes parted slightly, to look up at the blurred ceiling and the moonlight shinning through your window, hearing the water of the sea crash against the Sunny, you didn’t even have to move to feel the sting in your neck and the soreness on your limbs. Your lips were a bit swollen, your breast were sensitive, and you felt incredibly sticky and wet under and between your thighs.

You decided to worry about cleaning yourself up in the morning, but both of your sides felt cold since you were laying in the middle of the bed. Usually you smelled Sanji’s natural scent beside you, holding you close making sure you don’t completely fall asleep before you take your routine bath. You winced a little to turn your head and he wasn’t there, but you heard subtle footsteps hit his door and in came Sanji. With nothing, but some pj pants on carrying snacks, drinks, warm towels and an ice pack.

“Sanji…” You choked speaking out not realizing your voice was nearly gone, it was raspy and a bit itchy. Sanji nearly dropped the cigarette in his mouth seeing you holding yourself with your elbows giving him a weak smile. He threw a clean bed sheet over your body to cover yourself just in case someone busted in while you were knocked out.

“A-angel…” He urgently placed the tray down and rushed over to you helping you sit up. “I got you.”

His voice was so soft, and his touch to your body was so delicate your barely felt him move you compared to a few hours ago. You let the sheet drop off of your torso to see the damage on your body—-

It scared you both honestly.

You had many bruises on your neck from when he choked you, your breast, arms, thighs, ass and tummy for when he was giving you hickies,and a few bite marks on your shoulder. You’ve actually gotten into fights with people that left you with less marks.

You admired your body for a moment and grinned; somehow you really liked how he marked you up.

Sanji however couldn’t be more disgusted with himself.

He always viewed your body as a temple. He wasn’t the most religious man, but he did agree with the statement of what God said: “To treat your body as a temple.” Even though he smokes like a train.

And that’s what he wanted to do with you. He wanted to take care of your body, love it, and more importantly have you trust him with it.

—

He woke up 30 minutes before you, feeling a tad sore himself, “Y—oh shit—Y/N?!”

You were face down beside him and your breathing was pretty shallow. He turned you over too quickly and you shrieked in your sleep making Sanji flinch.

“I’m so sorry, Angel!…let me…let me move you a little closer okay?”

“‘M tired, Sanji….”

Guilt couldn’t even describe how he felt, you looked lifeless in his eyes. Your body was so beautiful, but the bruises ruined it and it was all caused by him.

He couldn’t believe the lack of self control he had with you, drugged or not he should have been able to managed himself correctly.

He carefully pulled you over to the middle of the bed seeing as you were leaning off the edge, after that he got up to put on his underwear and went into the drawer he had of fresh bed sheets and flew one on top of your body.

“I’m …so sorry.” He caressed your head, it was almost as if he betrayed you somehow by being so rough with you—his memory was even blurred a bit on how he started to have sex with you; but he got a few flashbacks of you screaming his name, tears coming through your eyes.

It wasnt long until he seen a tear drop fall onto your flustered cheek. He quickly wiped it away before grabbing your hand to kiss it.

“I’m such a piece of shit for this, I’m so sorry.”

—

“Feel better?” You coo’ed at him breaking out of his thoughts he looked back up at your tired face, your hair was disheveled, your eyes were drowsy but you smiled at him again waiting for him to respond, but his lips began to quiver. “Sanji..?”

“I’m so sorry!” He bursted into tears leaning over his knees , covering his face. “Im so sorry!”

Sanji was broken, his chest was heavy, you haven’t seen him cry like this ever. It wasn’t tears of him usually being his dramatic self it was real tears of pain and regret. You felt your heart sink seeing him look so distraught at you. It was as if he broke his own morals that Zeff taught him and he knew he couldn’t forgive himself if he ever did.

“Sanji…” Holding your breath slightly to not whine in pain to further his guilt, you used all the strength you had to grab him close to you, but he wouldn’t budge. “Sanji please look at me… you don’t have to apologize.”

“I don’t deserve you! I hurt you! Look at your bruises!? I caused this! I heard your cries and ignored them, i can’t believe I—I did this to you! I—I—“

His cries were paused when you wrapped your arms around his neck tightly to then rub his cheek. He has tears falling and his eyes were so pink and puffy. This was a serious issue for him, he really believed he hurt you in a bad way.

“Sanji…you didn’t betray me. You didn’t hurt me…—“

“But I did! look at you—- I put my hands around your neck, what if I would have really— I—“ His voice kept cracking trying to fight back anymore tears but he failed and broke down again, and it stung you in the heart. You didn’t want to cry in front of him seeing as you may begin to have him start feeling more guilt so you brought him back into your embrace, he couldn’t even hug you back feeling like he wasn’t worthy of touching you again.

“Please don’t apologize Sanji… everything you did under my consent and was amazing I wouldn’t have had it any other way..you didn’t hurt me. I really did love it. I should have threw out those stupid cigarettes anyways….” You rubbed the back of his head pushing it down gently so he can rest it on your shoulders, “I’m not mad at you either…there is no reason why you shouldn’t feel like you could have been anything less than respectful towards my body, baby…” As you were kneeled beside him on the edge of the bed you held up his wet face, “Remember before we started? You gave me a safe word? If I thought you went to far I would have used it. And I didn’t. You were perfect Sanji…in every way….”

He looked up into your eyes, he actually had no recollection of telling you about a safe word so he didn’t believe you for a moment, but the memory began to flash back. “Safe word?”

“Mmhm! It was blue. And I didn’t use it because I didn’t need to…i really enjoyed myself Sanji. I’m a big girl I can handle a bit of roughness from my Prince.” You let out an airy giggle, but Sanji was still looking into your eyes trying find any tinge of lies in your words, but just like any other thing you tell him; it was the truth. Sanji looked down with your hands still cupping him so you made him look back up, “Do you trust me?”

“…I do.” He whispered. “I just…I wasnt myself….and I’m sorry.”

“I know you weren’t, but I still trusted you and that’s why I allowed you to use me….so no harm no foul.” You wiped the rest of his tears as he sniffed and cleared his throat. He probably would have felt so self conscious crying in front of you like a baby, but he was comfortable, he felt judged free, and that was because he was around you. “I love you, Sanji.”

“…Please…” he grabbed your hand, “Please can I take care of you tonight…?”

You knew you couldn’t protest, catering to you was what he loved as much as cooking so you nodded. Sanji knew it was going to take sometime for him to let go of the resentment he had for what he did, but he believed you would be with him every step of the way for it.

“Common…” He pulled off the remainder sheets from your body to then wrap around you. “Let me draw you a bath.”

You hummed feeling him carefully hold you up bridal style and headed to the bathroom.

He sat you on the clean counter to turn on the water and adjust it to your liking. He placed some fancy soap on the side he got and even pulled some of the fresh lavender in the corner of the bathroom and placed it inside.

“Lavender?” You questioned looking at him from afar.

“It’s good for sore muscles.”

He walked over to your happy smile and curled his lip. You seemed to be still so happy and full of energy so he managed to feel himself breath a little bit more easily. “You okay?”

“Mmhm!” You hummed, He unwrapped the sheet from your body and gave a shaky exhale at the bruises once again, you noticed this and touched his bare chest, “Sanji ….can you give me a kiss please?…I missed them.”

This was the first time he hesitated on physical contact with you. What if he kisses too hard? What if you don’t like it?

“No.” You say as if you were reading his mind, “I want a kiss.”

Sanji leaned in and pecked your lips, they were so soft and plump so he went in for a another, but then pull back. You mentally sighed wanting a little more but you did not mind having to go slow with him.

“Common..” He carried you to the bath and you realized this was the first time he held you as you were naked and didn’t even make eye contact with your body, let alone drool over it. It kind of shocked you.

You let out a loud sigh feeling the hot water touch your cold aching skin. The smell of lavender put your lingering headache at ease and you smiled brightly at your Prince as if you were thanking him through your eyes.

It was a comfortable silence as Sanji sat over the tub to massage and scrub your body. He quickly looked on the counter and found your bonnet. He ended up putting your wild hair in two braids and putting the bonnet on you, kissing your temple in the process.

“Thank you, Sanji…I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.” He exhaled rubbing your shoulders. He gave your left shoulder a small kiss before rubbing it over with some soap on the wash cloth.

“Sanji…can you come in here with me? Please?” You almost didn’t ask, you wasn’t sure if Sanji wanted to but you had no sexual intention behind it. You just wanted to hold him. “We can just talk like we usually do. I know you feel kinda sore too.”

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, You kept your back turned, hearing his bottoms hit the floor to eventually hear his body drop in the water beside you. “Better?”

“No.” You moved yourself over between his legs to lower your back onto his damp chiseled chest. “Now it’s better.”

Sanji hummed in content and finished washing you, some of your bruises and bite marks began to fade a bit giving him some relief. It was nothing but the echoes of the water being moved around for a moment until you looked down to see his hand awkwardly on his own thigh, so you grabbed it to intertwine your fingers with his.

“You’re so special, Sanji…” You played with his fingers. You don’t why why you always do it, but it gave you a form of comfort when you were close to him. “Your are my special babyboy. My Prince….my…future husband.”

You felt him pause his circular motions he was rubbing on your tummy, marriage has always been a big topic between you both. He always ask you to marry him and you always playfully agreed to make him happy but deep down you could see it.

You can see being his wife, carrying his children.

You can see yourself being Y/N Vinsmoke, and even if he doesn’t want you with that terrible name he can have yours.

You continued since Sanji now had your full attention, “I don’t want you…to ever think that I couldn’t love you any less. No matter what you do. You’re stuck with me.” You giggled, “And I want to be stuck with you…You’ve been my first everything…and I want you to be my last and only everything….and…”

You don’t know why, but you started to get emotional yourself. Was the guilt you subtly felt? Was it your telling Sanji the truth? Was it the atmosphere? You didn’t know but you just swallowed hard and sniffed, “and I do love you, Sanji…I’m in love with you…all of you. Your flaws, your strengths your weaknesses…I love it all so don’t ever think I feel the opposite….don’t ever change Sanji..”

You turned to him in one fell motion to kiss him, this was probably the most realest kiss you’ve ever given this man, it was needy and hungrily, but passionate. Eventually both of you had small tears fall down pulling back, but you didn’t care. You brushed back his bangs revealing both of his pretty eyes and kissed his eyebrows. It was an insecurity he had but you didn’t care they were beautiful to you.

Sanji didn’t have much to say. He felt so overwhelmed with feelings. You sighed happily feeling his arms curl into your waist. In head was in your neck as you felt his tears drop onto your collarbone. In this very moment It was Just you and him. In this moment Sanji felt loved, he felt comfortable, he felt safe, and he felt forgiven for his actions.

“I don’t know what id do without you…” His voice Just above a whisper, rubbing circles on your back. You stayed like that for a while lightly rocking back at fourth. the water began to still and get cold so you both decided to clean up a bit more and go back to the bedroom and sleep for the last bit of hours you had left before everybody woke up again.

Sanji cleaned the sheets and carried you back on the bed which you felt much less sore but he still insisted you don’t walk for the rest of the night.

He brought over the snacks and drinks for you. You both were refreshed and happier so it was nothing but mindless chatter for a little bit as you ate.

“Shit..” Sanji huffed seeing the subtle light of the sun crack through the window above you both noticing y’all have talked almost all night. “I have to head to the kitchen in like an hour.”

“That’s okay.” You giggled laying flat on your back on the bed reaching your arms out, “Let me hold you for a second.”

His cheeks were a bit pink as your suggestion. Especially since you were wearing his button down shirt and your breast spilled through it showing your unerect nipples. You laughed at his reaction and just grabbed him to lay atop of your chest.

“S-so soft!” Sanji sung a little with excitement rubbing his head on you, you could feel the subtle heart eyes he had and you smiled warmly knowing your Sanji was better.

“I love you, my Prince.” You hummed kissing his head. He squeezed you a little,

“I love you, too, my love.”

[chucapybara]

thinking vv loudly about arlecchino as always—particularly her vision story entry

fire is still able to harm teyvat dwellers, even those with pyro visions. arlecchino's curse, among her two other sources of power, are no different.

perhaps arlecchino burned herself a few times, learning the ways of these strengths bestowed upon her for being of a lineage forgotten, eclipsed, the shade of a hollow, abyssal moon. and of the ink she bears, striking lines and markings along her arms, her hands, the charcoal hue at the tips of them; it's all a part of who she's come to be, making something of the ashes.

at times, in the grace of moonlight, you catch her by the windowsill. she does not take much to sunlight, preferring to stalk in the shadows, but the night was a different story; she allows the glow of it to illuminate her skin, the blackened arms. a reminder of what she has had to sacrifice to be here, to escape her fate, only to be thrust into another one.

her coat lays neatly folded over the back of a chair, and you brush your fingertips along the fabric—the feathered motifs, the sharp silver layers—as you pass. she knows you're here, of course; she senses you always when you've joined her in orbit, two inseparable celestials, sun and moon.

you embrace her from behind, and she does not protest, not so much as a breath of complaint. yours is the only touch she will allow, even when she would never even dream of allowing you an ounce of her burden.

(you hold her tighter, your cheek pressed to her bare shoulder. your lips paint 'ffections over a scar there, a line from a sword cut. her breath stutters. you take some of the weight with you when you withdraw.)

in the glimpse of the moonlight you catch the solemnity of her gaze, sharp, but never at you. in searching do your fingers thread between hers, clasping, thumb brushing the rings she has. her own, and those of the union that bound you together, in cursed sickness and in health, 'til death do you so part.

arlecchino's curse does not recede—it is far too late for that—but it has not grown in the length of time you have loved her, as she has loved you, and you are grateful for it. you bring her hand up to your lips, draping kisses along her knuckles.

she turns her head more, takes in the sight of you, and some of the edge falters from her gaze. arlecchino draws closer, her own lips pressing sweetly against your temple.

"you worry."

"it's my job, isn't it?" you whisper, as your kisses trace down the mark of her arm, to another healed sword cut, to a burn on her forearm. you inch down, almost kneeling, when she beckons you higher and embraces you tight.

"no," she breathes; a refusal, albeit a futile one. she knows you'll worry for her anyway.

it almost surprises you, the way she melts into your form—but you know it is a quiet moment for her, a silent request for your presence. for you to stay, for time to stop, to just give her this. to give her this.

she would never have you kneel for her. teyvat would sooner fall to barren ruins than ever see you on your knees for your husband.

arlecchino burrows into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. it tickles, some. your hands settle by her shoulderblades, by her spine. a warm pulse beats strong by her breast, and you know with due certainty it is the gemstone proof of her defiance against the heavens—her defiance for more days in the shade, more hours with you.

(once, she may have found the feeling of you creeping under her ribcage as intrusive, even abhorrent, but your place in the flesh of her heart sets her free, now.)

she keeps her vision close to her heart, but you will always nestle closer, and such is where you know you'll stay, once the skies begin to fall. cursed or not, she would face the dreadful dawn—to endure it all, the burning flame in her blood, the heavens shattering. to live, in spite of everything.

and you'll witness all of it, right there by her side.

[xcaptain-winterx]

Hiii I saw that your requests are open. Can I request a drabble or oneshot of LJ’s first birthday? Thank youuu also I love your writing 🫶🏼

Superstar

dad!Lloyd Hansen x sunshine

summary: LJ’s first birthday

warnings: fluff, slight suggestive stuff, poop, tears, Lloyd, baby

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.

Main Masterlist Daddy Sociopath Masterlist

“Ouch” Lloyd says, pulling his hand to his chest, looking at the spatula in your hand “that hurt”.

You roll your eyes at him with a smirk before continuing making the cake, “I told you that you can’t eat the cake batter”. Lloyd huffs and sits down on the counter opposite from you. He watches you stirring the pot while swinging his legs.

A pout forms on his lips “But why? You already made two cakes, Sunshine. Can I just have a little taste, please?”. You slightly turn your head to see Lloyd giving you his best puppy dog look, trying to convince you to give him some.

“Lloyd, you will get to eat some cake later. Not now. Also, eating raw cake batter is not good for you” you say as you pour the batter in the cake form.

A groan leaves Lloyd’s mouth, and he dramatically lets his upper body lay down on the counter. He just wants some cake. Normally, he only gets that dramatic when he doesn’t get a taste of you.

“We used to eat raw cake batter all the time at Harvard. Why can’t we now? That’s not fair” he says, jumping down from the counter. “I even promise to not smear some on your face”. Some hope is still in Lloyd that you give in.

At that you chuckle, “Sorry, Moonlight, but I don’t want to risk you getting sick or that something goes wrong with the cake”.

“Oh, come on” Lloyd says, opening the oven for you to put the cake in. “The other two cakes turned out good. A bit of missing batter wouldn’t have ruined the cake”. He closes the oven after you put it in before wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back into his chest. You giggle when his mustache tickles the weak spot on your neck. He starts to sway from foot to foot with you in his arms. You lean your head back on his chest and close your eyes.

A smile plasters on Lloyd’s face. “Don’t worry” he begins, “everything is going to be perfect”. He places a soft kiss against your temple.

You give him a quiet sound of acknowledgment. “Everything has to be perfect”. If this day doesn’t go as planned, you could never forgive yourself for messing up. If someone else ruins this day, you will kill them. It’s not every day that your baby turns one.

It’s LJ’s first birthday, and you have been planning this day for a long time. You spend months deciding what theme it’s going to be, what cakes should be served, who will be there, the presents and more. You spend a month alone looking for the best five stars bakers to make cakes for that day. Lloyd thinks he has never seen you this mad when the baker you chosen said he didn’t have time that day. He may or may have not threatened to cut his balls off and make cake pops with them if he didn’t bake that cake.

Best husband.

The smile on your face when Lloyd told you that the baker just mixed up the dates and actually has time was something beyond happy.

Therefore Lloyd is that confused and mad that he can’t have some cake. So far you baked three cakes and more cake will be here shortly. He needs some sugar.

While you were spending months planning this birthday, Lloyd just stood next to you, letting you be in your fixation. For once, he didn’t get why you were making such a big deal. LJ was only 3 months old at the time, but perhaps it was also because he was scared to tell you to calm down. Obviously, he knows that the first birthday is somehow special, but overall it’s just a birthday. This doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t have made all of his staff decorate the whole place and spend thousand and million dollars on his son’s birthday presents. Lloyd just wouldn’t be that stressed about that day.

He would still kill anyone that dares to ruin this day.

The more the relationship with his son grew, the more he realized LJ deserves everything in this world and there is nothing he won’t do to make that possible. If one of the staff or his minions makes LJ cry, they can prepare to get their organs taken out and limbs cut off.

Lloyd is trying really hard to be dad of the year.

While he is trying to be dad of the year, he knows that mom of the year already goes to you. The title already belonged to you before LJ was even born.

A staff ruins Lloyd’s and yours moment as they walk in and inform you that the cakes are here. Lloyd groans again as you jump out of his arms and make your way to the kitchen on the first floor. He sends the staff a glare, making them almost piss themselves before following you.

When he comes downstairs, he already sees people bringing in cakes and decorating the place.

“Put those fucking balloons over there, shithead!” Lloyd screams as they hang some balloons near the food table. They quickly scramble around, moving the balloons. “Fucking idiots”.

Lloyd snatches a strawberry from the fruit table and pops it into his mouth, while taking in the scene. If Lloyd didn’t know what was going on, he would think the apocalypse was about to start. He’s almost 100% sure that you made them get all panicked by pressuring them. Though it could also be his heavily armed men standing at each window that are making them that nervous. Lloyd shrugs his shoulders. As long as they do their job it doesn’t concern him if they are close to passing out.

“Lloyd!”

He jumps up from where he is standing and jocks in your direction. You are standing in front of a table with furrowed brows.

“Yes, sunshine” he says, standing next to you, hands behind his back, “what’s the matter? Who do I need to kill?”. Lloyd leans over your shoulder, nose brushing over your cheek as he inhales your smell.

“Do you like the gold or silver stars more?” you say, not acknowledging his action. Lloyd rests his head on your shoulder before moving closer to the table. “The silver stars fits the blue aesthetic more and are more simple, but the problem is that simple is boring. The gold stars are more shiny and bring in a specific ‘wow’ effect, but they don’t match the aesthetic”.

One thing Lloyd will never get tired of is your look for the details. You could paint a portrait of him and won’t show him till you have every single freckle, beauty mark, hair, small scar on the canvas. Though, you don’t have to paint every single wrinkle.

“I like the gold ones. They scream more Hansen” Lloyd says with a cocky smirk.

You look at his choice before nodding and calling over the staff to hang the gold stars up. “If it weren’t for LJs birthday decoration, I would say your ego is showing again” you say, pointing to the staff in which places they should hang them up. Lloyd’s gasp jokingly and places his hand on his chest.

“Sunshine, that’s mean”

“It’s the truth, Moonlight” you say, “your ego is as big as your dick”. A gasp leaves your mouth as Lloyd suddenly grabs you and pulls you into his chest hard, not budging even as you try to get out of his right embrace.

“No no no, Mrs Hansen” he tuts with a low voice, “You know you can’t just talk about my big boy without any action”. Lloyd’s one hand moves to your ass and gives it a good squeeze, while his other hand takes your hand and brings it towards his covered member. “Sunshine”.

In quick motion Lloyd’s Hand on your ass moves to the back of your head and pulls you forward. Your second gasp gets muffled by his lips smacking against yours, teeth clashing together. Lloyd is full on making out with you, not caring about others watching you two. They can watch all they want. Lloyd couldn’t give a fuck less, as long as you’re not naked. He loves touching you in front of others, showing everyone that you belong to him and ONLY him. You’re his and his alone. You belong to him.

Lloyd walks forward, caging you in between the table and him. A simply move of Lloyd’s arm and you are sitting on the table with him between your legs. He grabs your legs and pulls you closer. Out of instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist.

It seems like Lloyd finally gets some attention from you.

Until both of your phones vibrate at the same time. You pull away from the kiss and Lloyd chases your lips, not being finished with the kiss. He needs another taste of your soft lips and peach flavored chapstick. Sadly though, he only gets to touch your finger, which you stopped him from kissing you again, while you pull out your phone and look at it. You open your phone and see that LJ woke up. Both you and Lloyd can check the cameras and will always get a notification when LJ starts to wake up.

“Looks like the Birthday boy is awake” you say and pat Lloyd’s shoulder as you stand up, giving Lloyd a little peck on the lips before he can grumble again. “You coming, daddy?”.

He smiles at the peck and you calling him that “Stop teasing me that much, Sunshine” Lloyd says tilting his head. He watches you giving him a sunny smile, feeling the warmth of your happiness consume him. Lloyd walks over to you and takes your hand in his one, interlocking your pinkies and kissing it. “Let’s wake up our boy” he says before walking with you upstairs to LJ’s nursery.

A big smile greats you as you open the door, two chubby fingers pointing at you two.

“Maaaaa” LJ says, giving a lopsided grin.

You feel Lloyd roll his eyes before moving towards his son. “Well good morning to you too, superstar” he says. He keeps on telling himself that LJ will eventually learn to say Dada, Dad, Daddy, Papa, hell, he would even be ok with LJ calling him Pops.

LJ raises his arms as his dad comes closer. Lloyd picks him up and tickles his little belly, resulting in LJ letting out high giggles and squeals.

“Happy Birthday, bubba!” you say, kissing his cheek. Lloyd smiles and gives him to you as LJ reaches for you. Ones in your arms, LJ immediately snuggles into the crock of your neck. Such a mama boy.

“You are already one now! Only six more years and I can legally show you how to shoot” Lloyd says cheerfully, but quickly shutting up when you send him a death glare, “Of course only when Mama allows it”.

“Which she won’t”

“Yes, what Mama says is law” Lloyd says, “but legally it would be allowed-“

“Lloyd”

“Yeah, you’re right, no weapons”

You give him a satisfied nod and Lloyd you a thump up. We need to appreciate, though, that Lloyd would have waited till LJ was legally allowed to do that. For a sociopath who’s a hitman and more, who doesn’t go by the law, this is a big thing. For ones, he would have followed the law.

You look in LJ’s eyes, smiling brightly, “I promise you will have the best birthday ever. We have some shiny lights and cake. Oh, and we can’t forget your presents, superstar”. LJ already claps his hands and wiggles out of excitement after you said shiny. “First, we need to get you ready though”.

A soft smile decorates Lloyd’s face as he makes his way towards LJ’s closet.

A knock fills the room before the door opens and one of the staff pops their head in.

“I-I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Hansen, but we just got notified that the flowers won’t get delivered because the driver is sick” the staff stutters out in one go without taking a breath. They know that Mr. and the Mrs. won’t be happy about that. And well, they are scared that Mr. or Mrs. Hansen will cut off their head and send it to the company that were supposed to deliver the plants.

“What!” you and Lloyd say at the exact same time.

You hush LJ as he whines due to the loud noise, gently swaying him. Lloyd, on the other hand, doesn’t show any calmness in that situation and strikes towards the staff, making them hunch together.

“What do you mean by that?! That fucker can’t bring the flowers because his pathetic ass had to sneeze and immediately came to the conclusion that he was dying?!” Lloyd says through grit teeth, “I will cut that limp dicks face off and sew it back on backwards, then he will have some problems with his nose!”

“He has 104 F-“

“Do I look like I give a single fuck that this dick chocking piece of shit is dying of a fever?! No! Why can’t they send someone else, huh?!”

“They only have one dr-“

“I’ll blow their fucking company up and every single family member of the employees if the flowers aren’t here in the next 10 minutes!” Lloyd screams.

“I-I tell them that, M-Mr. Hansen” they say before quickly walking out, asking themself why they work here.

Lloyd’s face is red like the fuckers blood he killed at 2am, before he went to bed only to be woken up by you three hours later. A small whine makes his face fall and turn around to see LJ with teary eyes. His face quickly cools down as he walks over to the two of you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, junior. Dada didn’t mean to be that loud” Lloyd says softly, rubbing LJ’s back. If there is one thing LJ is scared of the most or hates is loud noises. If Lloyd wasn’t that loud, LJ would have probably even laughed because he loves seeing his dad put people in their place, especially while swearing. He may be a mama boy, but with his father’s love for hating people.

As expected, LJ clings to you closer, hiding his face in your chest. Lloyd finally looks at you and knows that you aren’t happy.

“I thought we talked about the swearing, Moonlight” you say in a soft voice, looking at him with a disappointed expression. He knows you aren’t directly disappointed in him rather, just not exactly happy that he did it in front of LJ again. “You know you have to put something in the swear jar”.

Lloyd doesn’t know how much money he had already put in the swear jar since your pregnancy, but he swears a lot and only carries hundred-dollar bills with him. He would say he’s still under a million though…..barely. Though, this jar is only for when he swears in front of LJ.

“I know, I know, sunshine” he says and kisses your temple. “Though I know you would have done the same if LJ wasn’t here”, he gives you a knowing look.

“Oh, I would have definitely screamed like that” you say, nodding while continuing to calm your baby down.

“Don’t worry, I will take care of it, sunshine” Lloyd says.

“No, it’s fine. I will” you give him LJ, who slightly protests against leaving the warmth of mama, but some comforting words and kisses eventually convince him to let go and calm down. “Would you mind getting him ready for the day?” you ask, opening the door.

“Dressing up my beloved Hansen Junior like his dada? Can’t think of anything better” he says and sways a bit. “I mean except-“.

“Thank you, Lloyd” you say, cutting him off, knowing exactly what he wanted to add, “love you”.

“Love you too, my beloved sunshine” he says as you walk out of the room, blowing you a kiss. Lloyd watches you close the door before looking down at his son, who is still looking at the door. “Don’t worry, once you’re ready for the day we see Mama downstairs” Lloyd says, caressing LJ’s blond almost white hair.

“Mama” LJ says, pointing towards where you went, while looking at his dad.

“Soon” Lloyd answers, chuckling at his son’s pouting and gives him Mr Mustache from the crib, which LJ immediately takes. He walks with LJ in his arms towards the closet, filled with various of different baby clothes of LJ. Surprisingly, not everything in the closet are designer clothes, some of it are from what Lloyd likes to call ‘the degenerated section’. If it wasn’t for you, Lloyd would’ve burned those clothes by now. Not because they are ugly, Lloyd has to admit they are actually pretty cute, but because people who are way below his money income also dress their kids like that.

Among those designer and cheaper baby clothes, there is also handmade stuff like sweatshirts, pants, jackets, hats and more. All of them are well knitted and made out of colorful wool. The thing is that not you made those clothes, but Lloyd did. He took his time knitting for hours to make adorable stuff for LJ to wear. If someone ever asks Lloyd though, he would deny immediately. He would say that he never even touched a needle and that knitting is some grandma shit. People would probably believe him…as long as you don’t show them some photos to prove that Lloyd knits in his free time.

“Now, my little superstar, what are we going to wear today?” Lloyd asks, to which LJ just snuggles into his chest. “I think my clothes are a bit too big for you” he says chuckling. He looks through the closet and takes out a little fluffy sweatshirt.

“This looks cute” the grunt LJ gives is answer enough. “Yeah, you’re right, it’s be a bit to warm too wear a sweatshirt“ he says and puts it away, continuing his search.

Next, he takes a blue romper from the hanger. “What about this? It’s nice but a bit boring, don’t you think?” he says, raising a judging brow at the romper. LJ nods in agreement.

Lloyd continues and grabs a baby tuxedo that he got custom made to fit LJ perfectly a while ago. “Oh, doesn’t this look good? A fudging expensive suit that fits this mini Hansen perfectly. You will get all the ladies and whor- wonderful people with it” he says smugly, saving himself at the end of the sentence.

Mini Hansen looks at the tuxedo for a second, inspecting it with his big eyes. His eyebrows furrow a bit of concentration, which makes him look like you when you concentrate on a painting. Lloyd smiles at the similarity between you two. Even though the furrowing of the eyebrows is from you, the look in LJs eyes is fully Lloyd Hansen. The judgmental stare that makes you question your existence and everything else. It’s like LJ is giving the bitch look just with brows that give him a more innocent look, like he isn’t just thinking that you look like poop.

“Mhm, what do you say, junior?”

LJ shacks his head and scrunches his face, whining and clinging to his dad’s polo.

Lloyd gasps “not this one?! Look it may look uncomfortable, but it’s actually pretty comfy” he says to which his son begins to kick his feet and slap his chubby hands against his dad’s chest. Lloyd huffs, LJ for sure, is a picky and stubborn baby.

“No no no no, what did we say about hitting dada? You are not allowed to kick or slap him. LJ, look at me” Lloyd moves LJ in his arms to get him to look at him “are you listening to dada?”.

LJ’s lower lip begins to quiver and Lloyd sighs “Look, if you stop hitting dada I put that suit away, deal?”. His son looks at him like he grew another head before, pointing to the closet. “Yes, I get you something else to wear when you stop”.

He looks at his dad for another second and then nods and stops trashing in Lloyd’s arms. Lloyd smiles, happy that his son agreed. He hangs the tuxedo away and stares at the walk-in closet. There are a lot of options, but nothing that fits the occasion. It can’t be something to ‘normal’, but also not too fancy. Walking through the closet , he sees nothing that catches his eyes or what LJ would approve of.

Lloyd’s attention gets drawn back down to his son as he pulls on his polo and points to something. “This?” he asks and grabs what LJ pointed at. LJ pointed at a dark blue sleeveless romper that he knitted awhile ago. To be more specific, he knitted the romper, among other things, while he wasn’t allowed to sleep with you for two months. He had a lot of time for knitting and jerking off to the image of you on your knees in front of the mirror, back to his chest while he fucks into you hard and fast, forcing loud moans out of you.

He grabs the romper and smiles. “You like stuff dada makes” Lloyd says. LJ claps and smiles, happy that his dad is holding the right thing. “You should really act like that about me around Mama, you know?”

On his way outside the closet, Lloyd grabs a white polo onesie, bouncing his son in his arms. “Then let’s change this man’s diaper and hope you didn’t cause a natural disaster in there” he says as he lays LJ down and puts Mr Mustache to the side.

Lloyd says a quick prayer to god before starting to change LJ’s diaper, that he will not get attacked by a poop bomb.

Luckily it’s not that big of a natural disaster, just a tsunami.

“Perhaps we should change your meal plan”

“Don’t pout”

“Come on, junior. Don’t cry. Mr Mustache is right here”

“Don’t kick your legs!”

“Stop that, Lloyd Junior!”

“I have shit on my hand!”

“Ahhhh!”

“Don’t laugh, junior!”

“I’m gonna throw up”

After changing LJ’s diaper and quickly washing and sanitizing his hands in LJ’s bathroom, he comes back and begins to finally dress LJ.

With slight struggle, he manages to get LJ’s head through the onesie. LJ hates when his head has to go through that. Lloyd smiles as he sees his son’s scrunched-up face turns happy when he sees him again.

“Well hello there, junior” he says in a high voice and LJ gives him a lopsided smile. Luckily, LJ doesn’t struggle as Lloyd puts on his romper and white socks.

Lloyd picks LJ up and gives him Mr Mustache before making his way to LJ’s bathroom and sitting him down in front of the bathroom mirror, making him face the mirror. A protective hand is on LJs back to make sure he doesn’t fall back on accident.

“Let’s give you the final Hansen touch”. With his free hand, he takes a soft brush and begins brushing LJ’s few hairs.

LJ interrupts in loud giggles as his dad decides to show some of his dance moves while brushing the hair, singing Stayin’ Alive. The giggles turn into squeals as Lloyd brushes his mustache with the brush.

“Jealous, Junior?” Lloyd jokes and carefully brushes LJ’s upper lip, like he had a mustache too. This action makes LJ fart because of laughing so much.

Once done, Lloyd wipes LJ’s mouth, who covered himself in spit duo to his laughing and then picks him up and walks out of the room.

“Ready to celebrate your birthday, Superstar?”

LJ claps his hands and wiggles in excitement.

“Mama!”

Lloyd groans.

[deeppenguinstudent]

OKAYY so this was supposed to be just a prompt but I got carried away. (Also it's kinda NSFW I'm so so sorry😭😭 I just love them so much)

I like to think that Jean buys a gun after Jeremy leaves. No one knows about it, he gets the gun through some discredited seller. He tells himself it's just a safety precaution, just in case he gets attacked.

He keeps his gun under his pillow, liking the feel of the ridges. He doesn't pull the trigger, he doesn't even take the safety off until one day it gets so bad. He takes out then gun, loads the bullets and presses it against his jaw. He's shaking, he wants to die he always has. Jeremy has left overseas for training, Laila has also left alongside Jeremy but Catalina is making their dinner downstairs.

Catalina is whistling some preppy song as she swivels her hips, excited to speak to Jean about some gossip in her computer science class. He can't leave her alone. He wouldn't let Catalina find her body; he'll die by the countryside with no one to remember his name. He'll just be a rumour within Exy; the famous backliner that killed himself. He wouldn't be as different as the other Ravens who did succeed the previous year.

Jeremy visits, of course he does because that's just how Jeremy is. Unrelenting Jeremy, who can see past Jean's faux mask. He finds the gun. it's the first time he ever sees Jeremy cry. He didn't cry when a Raven punched him in the nose, nor did he cry when bryson came down to the dorms demanding him to emancipate himself or leaving this foolish exy pipe dream.

Jeremy tries not to cry in front of Jean, but he fails this time. His tears shine in the moonlight as Jean tries to reason with him. He tries to reason that he's not going to pull the trigger. Jeremy looks him the eye, his hands ever so cruelly gentle and voice softer than a whisper. He asks silently: "Do you wish to live, Jean?"

Jean's voice catches in his throat. Of course he does. He wants to tell Jeremy how he yearns for their shared nights as he Jeremy enveloped him when he was still captain. He wants to tell him that he's happy at USC, much happier than he ever would be in evermore. He has so much here. Why wouldn't he be?

But then why would he keep a gun tucked away under his pillow, testing its weight? Why would he hover over his wrists with a kitchen knife, flexing his vein from time to time?

He chokes out, "I don't know."

And that was the most truthful lie he would ever tell Jeremy. Jeremy's face would be a nightmare to Jean forevermore. His eyes are filled with more tears, but his smile is so heartbreakingly sad. He is silent as he leans in to kiss Jean, it was lingering and has Jean clutching onto him - hands pulling Jeremy to him as they rest on the neckline of his shirt and Jeremy's fingers never moving from his cheeks.

They kiss and pull back, kiss and pull back. Jeremy looks like he'd be the one with a gun to his temple if they break away, even for a moment. He chases Jean's lips as he pulls back so Jean indulges him. He is always the one to finally close the gap in the end.

Jeremy now is laying on his chest, absentmindedly circling it - he has an animalistic grip on Jean's waist, and Jean's hands knead his hair.

"You shouldn't do this to yourself, Jeremy," Jean's words were barely there, more like he was voicing out his thoughts accidentally.

Jeremy whips his head up and searches for an answer. His tear stains are dried against his cheeks, and his eyes scrutinise him further.

"You can't tell me how to live my life, Jean." Jeremy is now sitting up, his hands shaking as he clutches against Jean's chest, thighs bracketing Jean and lips parted in...anger? Jeremy is never angry. This wasn't right. Jean was already ruining the perfect, kind, sweet Jeremy into something rotten and bitter. It was all he could do - he broke everything he touched.

"Look at you, Jeremy," Jean pushed himself off the bed frame, Jeremy was now on his lap. Jeremy's face didn't look right with a vexed expression. He was normally smooth and patient, but now he was an ugly beast with rage; he was already mirroring Jean's nasty ways.

"You're beautiful, kind, and deserve someone who can give you what you need," Jean licked his lips as Jeremy's gaze grew more heated with fury. "I'm not even classified as damaged goods because I was never worthy enough to be anything more than dirt buried in the ground. A pitiful corspe of who Jean Moreau once was. "

He waited for Jeremy's response, but all he got was his wrists at the side of his head, Jeremy pushing closer towards him - his body heat frustratingly intoxicating.

"Stop talking, Jean. You're completely wrong, once again." Jeremy tried to mask exasperation with a smile, but it turned to more of a grimace.

"I'm not doing this out of pity - or whatever you think. I'm doing this because you put a curse on me ever since you entered USC. A wretched curse that tormented my mind poisoned my thoughts. Even after I left USC, all I could even fathom to think about was you, you, you."

Jeremy took a deep breath before leaning in again, kissing him bruisingly before letting his forehead rest against Jean's.

"I think about how you love to tease your friends with monikers, how you hide your face in abashedness when someone reciprocates. How you complain about the Trojans getting sweet treats after they win a competition yet eyes sparkle with want seeing cupcakes with pink frosting. How you laugh at my stupidest jokes, how you make fun of me when ever I try to cook, how your eyes linger when I wear shorts around the house. How you listen to me rambling about my favourite literature books, how you enjoy to comment such moronic remarks whenever Laila turns on her reality TV shows."

Jeremy kissed his way from Jean's mouth to his ears, biting Jean's earlobe and smiling silently when Jean's fingers scratched lightly at his back.

His voice was dripping with desire, "I can't go back to a life without you Jean. I don't think I'll ever forget today, your lips will be seared indefinitely into the crevasses of my mind. You've ruined me, truly; in the best way possible," Jeremy's voice was mellow and like an aria against Jean's ear, "I need you so badly, a single smile of yours is able to incinerate my heart into flames. I want to see every side of you, ugly and beauteous."

With a open mouthed kiss to the skin below Jean's earlobe, Jean's breath wavered and his heartbeat stuttered, "If you want to die Jean, please call me. Make sure there's two bullets in this gun when you pull the trigger, one for me and one for you."

Jean reeled Jeremy backwards so hard, it almost gave him whiplash, "Jeremy - what are you saying?"

Jeremy gave a lazy smile, his eyes taking in Jean at leisurely pace as he hiked up Jean's shorts higher and higher. Jean let out an inquisitive sound and eyes widened in realisation.

"Are you okay with this?" He paused his ministrations and it was like time stopped. Of course, Jeremy wasn't like those heathens at the Nest yet that singular question broke the last of his composure. Crushing their lips together, he straddled Jeremy on his lap - he gave an appreciative grunt as he felt Jeremy's thighs below him. Jeremy raised an eyebrow whimsically and Jean kissed that expression off his face.

"Show me the root of your desires, Jeremy." Jean puffed his breath against Jeremy's mouth, biting his lower lip down. Jeremy enveloped his waist and pulled him in impossibly closer.

"With pleasure."

[missy-0-piink]

Imagine instead of fucking fyodor with a dildo or a strap you use the muzzle of a gun. Of course you have the safety on but he doesn't know that and he's begging you to not pull the trigger and all you can do is smile down at the poor baby. <3

Soooo, I’ll add a scenario to your ask because it’s the only way I see him being caught unawares

Also the gun isn’t on safety- it’s empty, because it would still ruin fyodors trust because there is a chance that a firearm (especially if faulty) could go off even with the safety on

It’s too much for him to risk that happening again so if reader did that he’d probs leave them

Hope you don’t mind!! 🤗

Ummmm, also, this is kind of dubcon (I’m calling it that to make it seem nice) but yeahhhhh

Also TW:

Dubcon

Toxic reader

————

He wakes up with a small gasp, eyes shooting open as something cold presses against his rim

What the-

He tries to move his arm down and stop whatever the fuck it is, but his movements are stopped harshly by some kind of… restraint??

When had he been restrained?

He whipped his gaze down… and is met with your blazing eyes, glinting ominously in the moonlight that falls through the window

“(Name)-“ he says, surprise evident in his voice, “-what are you doing?!”

“I’m punishing you.” You say, emotionless as that cold thing keeps prodding at his entrance

“Are you serious?” He scoffs, smirk playing on his lips, “you can try all you want, but-“

(You knew he wouldn’t be able to tell the him was unloaded, the safety was off and he couldn’t feel the weight of the gun so he’d obviously assume it’s loaded and ready)

And in the blink of an eye, that cold thing is pressed against his temple,

“Shut. Up.” You say, voice deceivingly quiet for the threat that lurks beneath them

His eyes are wide, and it’s the first time he’s ever feared you

When did you get a gun?

He knew that you were angry at him, the very heated argument you had earlier that had evolved into you screaming at him while he dismisses your valid claims attesting to that. He knew you had… mental troubles, but surely you wouldn’t take it so far as to actually kill him!

“(N-name), if this is about before, then I’d like to apolo-“ he tries to say, but you cut him off, a hand clamping over his mouth

“I’m going to punish you, ok?” You say coldly, eyes wide and bloodthirsty

All fyodor can do is nod in response, watching with wide eyes as remove your hand and slink the gun back down to his hole

He’s faintly trembling, you notice, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. You’ve caught him completely off guard, and it scares him that you have all the faculties to end his life. Right here. Right now.

“Open” you command, and fyodor does as you say, spreading his legs so you can have easier access to his ass

You pour some lube on the muzzle of the gun, before slowly pushing it against his rim, then inside of him

His breath hitches, he can’t believe he’s got a gun inside of him-

Once it’s gone the furthest it can go, you pull it out, angling it to where you know you’ll get a reaction- and start thrusting ut in and out at a brutal pace

Fyodor yelps, the rigid metal pounding against his walls and g spot

It feels disgustingly good while simultaneously feeling like it’s going to bruise his prostate, and he moans aloud when you stop to grind the muzzle against it

His cock fills out, and he’s ashamed that such a thing is making his dick leak.

“Tell me, wouldn’t this be such a pathetic way for the great Dostoyevsky- the great demon fyodor- the self acclaimed right hand man of god to go out?!” You ask, a maniacal smile on your face as you watch fyodor squirm

His heart drops at that- which is why he doesn’t understand why his cock twitches?!

“N-no! (Name), think this- think this through, please Milaya!” He gasps out, body twitching as he tries to obey you and not close his legs- he can’t afford not to listen to you, you could very well murder him for it.

“Why should I? You never think through what I have to say, do you?” You sigh out, voice laced with disappointment as you look forlornly at where the gun is pressed into fyodor

“I-I’m sorry! Ah! Milaya, you know I love you-ngh-do you not? We-we can compromise, I’ll listen to you and-“

“So you admit you don’t listen to me!? That you won’t respect me-“ you cut him off, harshly ramming the gun into fedyas hole, sure to cause pain

“Gah! “ he screams out, the jolt of pain and pleasure shooting up his spine, “No, I didn’t- that’s not- myshka, please! Forgive me, don’t do someone you will regret-“

“Will I, though?” You muse aloud, speeding up the pace of which you thrust the gun into him

He tries to form words, but he’s getting close, the feeling of the- now warm- metal pressing into and melding his walls pushing him closer and closer

“Don’t you dare cum, fyodor” you say darkly, and yet the way you continue the most pleasurable pace and angle for him completely contradicts your words- as though you want him to cum

So he can’t help it when he arches his back, moaning loud as he cums, trembling. Thick fluid splashes onto his abdomen, dirtying his pyjama top and dripping down his dick

Once he realises what he’s done, he snaps his head to you, eyes blown wide and becoming glassy as his lips tremble

“Milaya- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-“ he tries to say, but you place a finger over his lip, shushing him

“Shhhh, you broke the rules. You know what happens now, don’t you?” You say, making a show of pointing the guns muzzle- that still inside of him- towards where his organs would be, and slowly pulling the trigger

“Wait- Milaya dont!” He screams out, panicked as tears drop down his face

Click!

An… empty round?

Fyodor sighs, relaxing into the bed as he quietly sobs- too many emotions going through him at once:

Relief

Anger

Amusement

(Love)

“Oh baby, it’s ok. Just wanted to teach you a lesson,” you say as you brush his hair away from his face, cupping it in your hands

Tears roll down his face as he gasps, body still trembling from the adrenaline

“Shhhh, it’s ok” you say as you proper his face with kisses

“I’d never do that to you”

————

Had to add some fluff, so sorry if that’s not want you wanted haha

Love this idea by the way, one of my fav tropes tbh

[hellsburners]

Hi, I need more of Matt and mirror sex 🔥🔥 can you please write more of this🫠

You were bent over in front of the large mirror in Matt’s room. His lips pressed into your neck, one arm around your waist while the other one was playing with your nipple. He starts to trail the tip of his tongue around the side of your neck all the way up your ear. He nibbles on the thin cartilage while the hand around your waist falls to your sex.

His calloused fingers played with you while he rubbed his erection on your ass. Your hands lead to his hand on your core, wrapped around his big forearm. He whispers sweet nothings to your ear, the pleasure from your sensitive sex with the constant flicking of your nipple egged you more towards a climax. You let out sobs calling for his name, your eyes welling with tears as sweat drenches your hair. 

He takes a hand to your hair, the other still at your sex. His fingers sink through the strands of your hair gripping on them. There’s a slight sting to his grip, he then pushes you down so your ass points up. You see his forearm muscles contract, the veins more visible. His releases your hair to give you a quick spank. He slaps the shaft of his cock to your ass. You see his cock, all red and veiny, drip with precum. 

He tilts his head down and lets out a long strand of spit to his cock. You look at him through the mirror, moonlight shone to his body but the darkness hides his eyes. It was almost eerie, the way the darkness mirrors his roughness. 

He brings his hand to your mouth. Spit, he says. Your own saliva wetting his fingers. He inserts his large fingers inside you, your mouth letting out a loud whine. His lubed digits continue to massage the muscles surrounding your hole. After a few minutes of massaging your hole, he takes his wet cock to your hole. The thick sex stretching your hole despite the preparation. 

His pace started off slow, so as to test your capabilities. When he realized that you could take deeper thrusts he starts to go at it. The sounds of moaning and skin slapping floods the entire room. His pace became faster and harder. His grip on your waist was so hard red finger marks were left on your skin. 

He grabbed your wrists and held them together on your back. Your moans muffled in the sheets. You could see his chest muscles jerk from the constant thrusting. He bites his lip but the moans were still audible. From the fast fucking and the constant friction you wanted to yell, he was starting to ruin you. Your eyes rolled back so hard, your mouth agape drool forming at the corner.

You stared at his reflection while he fucked you. His eyes closed so hard wrinkles formed at his temples, his forehead dripping with sweat, his moans became aggressive calls for your name. He pulls you up to his chest, he wraps a hand around your neck while his lips leaving  wet kisses to your nape. He started long strides of his cock to your hole until it turned hard and slow, his seed pumping inside you, he felt your own orgasm coming from all the moaning.

You came so hard from watching him, it was voyeuristic in a way, seeing him fuck and cum, your eyes were glued to him. He collapses his weight on you, the two of you falling on the bed. You got up to sit on his lap, he was a panting mess below you. You just sat there looking at him, and goddamit, Matt Murdock looked so hot when he fucks.

[eluvisen]

The Bear and the Barbarian

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Characters: Karlach/f!Tav

Rating: M

After unleashing nature’s wrath on the goblin camp, Rhodeia struggles to return from the violence she inflicted. Karlach helps.

Notes: Written for Femslash February 2024. Prompt: chose violence.

—

Lost in her wildshape, the killing is easy. Easier than it’s ever been as Rhodeia rides the rush of battle-tides, losing herself in the current. Fire and blood spill across defiled stone until there’s no roar left but echoes off the crumbling walls and she doubles over, panting. A red string of saliva drips from her mouth to the floor.

With every breath, she becomes aware of the flagstones under her paws. The wet stickiness coating her claws. But the shape of them feels wrong, too short and too blunt, and it takes several tortured seconds to realise her paws are no longer paws at all.

“Soldier.”

A creak of leather, and a pair of knees sink into her field of vision, accompanied by a wave of heat. The infernal reek beats against her, crisping the air with an unnatural acrid tang. Some animal instinct as deep as the earth beneath the temple floor needs to attack, but her claws are bloodied nails once more, and she can only gasp as black spots roll across her eyes. 

“Come on. Focus on me. That’s it. Battle’s over, in case you couldn’t tell. But you probably can, since you changed back.”

Her vision is dim, greyed at the edges. Distant noises roll in like a tide, and she twitches at a nearby laugh. Voices. The crackle of flames, and a closer heat against her face. She heaves in breath after breath, the air clawing the back of her throat. The pain brings her back, just a little.

Rhodeia manages, “Karlach?”

“Ey! She speaks! Good news, soldier: we won, and now there are hot baths in our imminent futures. Or a dip in a cold stream, rather, which is almost as good.” Karlach’s voice lowers. “Come on, now. On your feet, soldier. No baths for you if you don’t.”

With one hand planted on her knee, Rhodeia pushes herself upright. The dimensions of her body feel wrong—too narrow, too contained. Cold air on furless skin.

“That’s it, soldier. You can do it.”

A final push, and Rhodeia makes it to her feet. Just. Beside her, Karlach rises to her full height with far less wobbling despite the bruises and streaks of blood marring her skin. Rhodeia scans the temple courtyard, but the bear hasn’t quite left her yet; her gaze snaps towards every nearby sound, searching for threats. Lae’zel brings her blade down on a not-quite-dead goblin while Shadowheart cleans her mace with a sneer at a defiled statue of Selûne. The others similarly move through the tides of the dead, pilfering trinkets and slitting throats. Halsin stands gore-streaked in the moonlight, his hands and chin gloved in red. Rhodeia supposes she looks much the same.

She blinks, and they’re a safe distance from the temple ruins. At some point they must have stopped to make camp, and she watches from somewhere beyond her body as they wash away the blood and seal their wounds. Something squeaks nearby, and she realises her eyes have focused on a bat hovering above Halsin’s hands. With a final murmur from him, the bat takes flight, speeding in the direction of the Emerald Grove. Firelight glimmers off its wings, and then it disappears into the gloom.

Rhodeia is vaguely aware of a chunk of flatbread being shoved into her hand. Maybe she eats it. Maybe she doesn’t. When she rises to her feet, the bread is gone and the warm crackle of the fire has faded behind her. Overhead, the forest canopy shivers and peels apart like unwinding fingers, offering precious silver glimpses of the distant sky where all of Selûne’s grace shines down from her pale, full cheek. Perhaps she’s pleased by the slaughter.

Rhodeia passes through the trees until the foliage drops away, revealing a small creek that winds through the night-silvered forest, gurgling in its gravel bed. The sound makes her teeth itch. 

She finds a place to sit. The trees aren’t particularly tall—certainly nothing like the old growth of the deep forest she calls home—but here they loom like living shadows. They stand over her in a silent guard, shivering above while she shivers below. The unfamiliar shape of them leaves her feeling small. Isolated.

Something moves in the underbrush, and she tenses until she sees dim orange light reflecting off leaves and tree trunks in a phantom blaze. A phantom blaze that’s at real risk of becoming a real blaze, but Karlach navigates towards the creekbed with all the care she can muster, and the forest remains blessedly unburnt. She halts a little ways away, and Rhodeia recognises Karlach’s wolf-wariness, head half-cocked and feet light. The yellow glow of her eyes fix on Rhodeia. 

“Hey, soldier.” She scuffs one boot in the gravel as the rocks heat and sizzle “Thought you might want some company.”

[Read on AO3]