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jeonstellate · 1 year

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until the end of time

like the hands on the clock, the story of jihoon and [first name] will go back to the start.

๑彡 lee jihoon x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 reincarnation!au, see you in my 19th life-inspired!au — character death — angst

๑彡 paragraph format — 1.4K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

Lee Jihoon is tired. Exhausted. Drained.

He has seen a million sunsets from multiple corners of the world. He has seen countless empires rise and fall into the ashes they once came from. He has seen hundreds — if not thousands — of people he was once close to succumb to the way of the world.

He has lived through a number of predicted world ends, just to witness another day after.

But Lee Jihoon is not immortal. He is not a vampire, not a werewolf, not a wizard, nor an owner of an elixir.

Rather, Lee Jihoon is a mere mortal — burdened with the memories of his past lives.

However, for someone who can remember all sixteen of his past lives, he sure has forgotten a lot of things over the centuries. He supposed he has the imperfection of human brains to thank, especially in regards to his accumulated memories blurring together after he reached his seventh life. It is not like he prefers it any other way, anyway, since the said flaws actually lessened the burden of remembering.

He no longer remembers when he decided to lessen the deep connections he makes in each life . . . until eventually he stopped all together. He recognizes that decision made him colder in each reincarnation, but he found himself not caring. People will forget him anyway, but he will not. At least not until his memories of them join the blur.

Lee Jihoon has no regrets living detached, especially if he survived sixteen past lives to date without going insane. And now, on his seventeenth life, he plans to live similarly.

Except he met [first name].

[Full name]. The child of his mother’s best friend. The child who is protected from the world’s cruelty by their age and is full of curiosity and wonder because of it. The child who is, more likely than not, currently living their first life.

At first, Jihoon was annoyed by [first name]. How could he not? They literally walked into his life fascinated by sunlight and rainbows, as if they were made of magic. It was appropriate for their age then, single-digit it was, as it was for him — although he was a few years older. He did not count their naïveté against them, though, partly because he would have been in the same boat had he not regained all of his memories a week before they met. If anything, it was safer to say that he was actually jealous of [first name]; envious of their ability to keep their innocence until they are old enough to find out the truth themselves, without memories of past lives ruining the rose-tinted glasses early on.

Jihoon tried his hardest to be nonchalant about [first name]’s existence. It even came to the point where he tried to ignore them the best way he could, just to put more distance between. However, his efforts had been proven to be futile — especially given that [first name] was an oblivious and persistent child. Thus, against his own judgment, he still wound up attached to them.

Instead of using his jealousy to rip away their innocence about the world, Jihoon uses his feelings to protect their innocence for as long as he can. After all, he might have preferred to don a cold exterior, but he is not entirely heartless. And since he is not given the chance to enjoy an untainted world view, he made it his personal mission that [first name] does. For both of their sakes.

Through [first name], Jihoon gets to live. He is not simply existing nor trudging through his seventeenth life. He actually has a purpose — and is actually making memories worth remembering.

And yet . . . he still holds [first name] at a distance. He merely considers them as a child that needs his protection, rather than as a best friend — like how they see him as. It is undeniable that he cares for them more than he would like to admit, but his curse is hindering him from accepting it.

Lee Jihoon simply cannot experience another lifetime of longing for a soul who will not remember him once their life resets. He simply refuses to.

However, like a flame to a moth, [full name] is oblivious to the dilemma they are unknowingly putting him through.

On the day of [first name]’s tenth birthday, they are strangely adamant that Jihoon has to spend it with them. Albeit they have known each other for years at this point, they have yet to celebrate [first name]’s birthday together. It really is not a big deal, especially considering that they see each other fairly often, but it is apparently so for [first name]. And Jihoon, who prioritizes their happiness above all else, just has no other choice.

"What ride are you looking forward to go on, [first name]-ssi?" The chosen address is a manifestation of Jihoon’s attempt to put a distance between, while not ignoring the familiarity. Frankly, it is a stark contrast to [first name]’s chosen address for him, ‘Jiji’ and ‘Hoon-ie’, considering that they are much more unconstrained when it comes to feelings and societal norms.

"The carousel!" The birthday celebrant exclaims excitedly, making him face them in anticipation for their inevitable blabber. Truth be told, Jihoon has grown fond of watching [first name] talk about something they feel strongly about. Especially since he gets to witness the strengthening spark in their eyes whenever they get more excited. "You should ride it—"

However, this time, the blooming feeling in his chest is not light. Rather, once his head turns towards them, he is suddenly filled with a familiar suffocating feeling.

An intuition he only gets whenever he is close to reset.

Jihoon’s mind is immediately at a panic. The fact that his intuition flared up now, while he is still inside a moving vehicle, can only mean—

He feels the impact first, before he hears the shattering and the bending.

He wants to call out to [first name]. But he finds himself unable to. Not when his breath has been knocked out of him. Especially not when he can feel hot liquid oozing down his face.

It takes an incredible amount of will and pain to even try to look at [first name]’s face. However, all of those are nothing compared to the moment when he finally sees what he is looking for.

[First name] suffered more from the impact, no doubt because most of the force came in their general direction. He cannot see how he looks like at the moment, but it is easy to imagine he does not look as bad as [first name]. Especially because their eyes stayed close even after the effect of the impact has subdued. Still, he thinks nothing of their stillness, mostly because he does not have enough blood flowing through his brain to even think.

And yet, just before the blood loss overtakes his consciousness, Lee Jihoon suddenly remembers the first life he has forgotten.

He started out as a prince. In an era where rivalry between neighboring kingdoms were prevalent and deadly, he just so happened to be in love with a child of an enemy. They managed to keep it within themselves in the cloak of the night, but—

Someone eventually ripped the comfort of the cloak away. And with it, came the price.

The prince was forced to watch the love of his life get executed, prohibited to do anything by the rope around his feet and by the strong arms locking his own in place. They showed no mercy with the royal-born, mostly because one had the blood of the enemy and the other had been labeled a traitor.

Fortunately, with the ounce of mercy left within their being, the guards at least allowed the two to bid farewell.

I’ll find you in the life after death. Even it takes a hundred lifetimes, wait for me. I’ll find you.

His so-called curse, as it turns out, originates from an oath. A promise born from pain, which inflicted knives of loneliness once forgotten. A promise so sincere that both the universe and time conspired to see its completion.

And after sixteen more lifetimes, Lee Jihoon has finally found the reincarnation of his love from his first life. [First name].

Unbeknownst to him, long before he started fighting for his life in the ICU, [first name] has already started their journey on the next do-over.

#lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #lee jihoon imagines #woozi imagines #seventeen imagines #lee jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios #seventeen scenarios #lee jihoon oneshots #woozi oneshots #seventeen oneshots #reincarnation!au #see you in my 19th life!au #lee jihoon #woozi #seventeen

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tswwwit · 2 years

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Are Dipper's successors destined to live in the Mindscape forever? Or can they live with Bill on the mortal realm, just like during Dipper's first life? if there are pics and videos of bill in his human body all over the internet then I'm guessing he's kind of like a celebrity...

They don't have to live in the Mindscape! They, along with current Dipper, get to spend time in reality or in the dream realm depending on what they prefer. Bill's place just has a lot of great amenities and a really kickass bed, so it's a convenient place to crash.

Also, Bill absolutely gets a reputation. You can't have Bill Cipher be in the mortal realm for decades on end without having a considerable number of noteworthy stories, after all.

#answers #Reincarnation!AU #One of the major things holding me up from writing some stuff I'd like to is that I really dislike writing action scenes #Because these two idiots definitely get up to a lot of action #I just prefer to lie facedown on the floor instead of writing a fight #One of the things Bill gets known for is absolutely party crashing #He's a big fan #Which leads in well to the latest dumb thing I've been thinking of #Where an incarnation of Dipper is roped into marrying someone he doesn't even like #The reason isn't important just know he's super not happy about it #And as he stands there sweating in an uncomfortable suit looking miserable and thinking of how shitty his life's about to be #The officiant starts in with the 'should anyone know why these two should not be married #'Speak now or forever hold your-'#Bill Bursts in with a big dramatic effect with the I Object!!!#Dipper has never been so happy to see an insane force of nature before (That he can remember)#Bill all storming up and literally punting the spouse-to-be out of the way #Nodding to himself and taking Dipper's hands - then turning to the officiant and going 'okay continue'#I like this for the moment of DIpper giving Bill the starry-eyed 'my hero' look right up until he realizes what Bill's pulling #At which point it instantly turns into a Wait What #They get declared demon and husband in record time and Bill throws him over his shoulder and strides off whistling #Enjoy your honeymoon guys

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neuvillettes · 2 years

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chapter one - swallowed in the sea

last | masterlist | next

ch. warnings: none? just childe trying the steal the show -.-

wc: 2.8K

a/n: this chapter took on a mind of it’s own tbh. rip

it’s another beautiful spring day, just like the one all those years ago. you’re lost in thought as you finish your final duties for the day. it’s been about 5 years now since ningguang found you lounging amongst a field of grass near a small patch of ruins. you had allowed yourself to be nostalgic on that day. after all, it had been about 15 years since you last visited the guili plains.

you’d made sure that none of the archons or adepti would be present but you had forgotten to account for anyone else. it wasn’t common for the mortals to linger around these specific ruins, at least not in the past. one moment you were enjoying the sunlight beaming down on you while you rested your eyes, the next, a shadow was cast over you by a young woman. when you opened your eyes to peer at the figure interrupting your peace, you were faced with a beautiful and fair woman with long pale blonde hair that subtly turns grey at the ends. her eyes a striking red that were kind hearted but also clouded by a ferocity that intrigued you.

ningguang had managed to capture you, an adeptus that had been a lone nomad since you were put back on this world over 200 years ago. she lured you into her, back then small, jade chamber that was nothing more than the size of a room and still earthbound. if it weren’t for the curve of the coastline and the spear-like stones left behind by the geo archon in the distance, you wouldn’t have recognized that you were once again back in liyue harbor. you had scolded yourself, all that effort you’d put into avoiding the main city in the great nation of the geo archon, gone just like that.

you had been roped into becoming one of seven qixing, a head merchant of the city, and a business partner to ningguang. you’ve become exceedingly close with the ambitious tianquan, head spearing most of the construction added to the jade chamber over the years. she has become your partner in crime and closest confidant. if someone could find one of you, the other wasn't too far behind. much like now, just as you were sealing your last task of the day, ningguang walks in looking quite flustered.

“what’s that look for?” you’re suddenly on high alert, it took a lot for ninguang to get rattled like this.

the obviously stressed official sighs. “i’ve been making preparations for the rite of descension and the fatui are sticking their noses into every minute move i make. i can’t imagine what has got them so on edge that their spies are being this clumsy.”

“i’ll have a word with childe. he owes me a dinner, anyway.” you sigh at the thought of interacting with childe. his own energy always managing to suck out all of yours.

“oh? does he now?” ningguang gives you a pointed look and you scoff.

shaking your head as you rise from your seat, “it’s not like that, ning. he’s hardly tolerable on his best days.”

she hums, “whatever you say, lady y/n.” she mocks with a playful tone and you roll your eyes at her yet can’t help but giggle along with her. “lady y/n” is the title childe constantly and flirtatiously insists on calling you. you always wondered how one man- no - one boy, could be so irritating.

“baixiao? can you come in here please?” the secretary quickly scurries in with an alert expression.

the girl bows before speaking. “what can i help you with, my lady?” no matter how many times you’ve told baixiao that the formalities she kept up with you were unnecessary, she still bowed and refused to call you anything other than by your title or proper honorifics. you don’t care for it, being called by a title, having servants and employees bow to you. it all felt far too… traditional, for your liking.

“please deliver a message to the northern bank, stating i require an audience with childe at 6pm sharp at the liuli pavilion. on your way back make sure to confirm my reservation as well as inform them that i will be having a guest.” you jot down a quick letter for baixiao to deliver and hand it to her sealed.

“i will deliver this right away and inform you of the fatui’s response upon my return.” she bows once more before slipping out in a hurry.

you look at ningguang with a tired expression. “and here i thought i was going to have a peaceful meal to myself tonight.”

“i’ll make it up to you. tomorrow night i will cook us your favorite, qiankun mora meat.” your friend smiles at you brightly and you relax.

you offer her a smile and roll your eyes playfully. “we both know it’s only my favorite when you make it. of all your talents, you still manage to be one of the best cooks i know. i envy your skills in the kitchen.”

“please, they’re nothing special. it’s a hobby, we all need one.” ningguang gives you a pointed look. you shift your weight uncomfortably, knowing she’s referring to your habit of working more than necessary and hardly ever leaving time to enjoy yourself. it was clear you were hiding from something. but you could never bring yourself to tell ningguang the whole truth, no matter how close the two of you had become.

she knew about you being an adeptus, she’d figured that one out on her own, but you never told her about your past. she doesn’t know anything beyond the time the two of you met by chance that day on the fields amidst the ruins. ningguang was okay with that, she didn’t push you to tell her what was going on, but she also encouraged you to do other things. things that involved you exploring liyue and that was something you just couldn’t bring yourself to do.

not only did liyue remind you of what you had lost, but it also reminded you that you could run the risk of meeting the one person you had spent this entire lifetime avoiding. it was too risky for you to get acquainted with the people in the nation of contracts. they would start to talk about you, knowing that you were one of the seven qixing. you knew morax would have his interest piqued by a new adeptus that managed to avoid his presence. he would be able to put the pieces together easily after that. that wasn’t something you were willing to chance.

so, unlike ningguang, you stayed in the shadows much like the other qixing. the other six of you kept a low profile, moving quietly, making deals and orders covertly. it was easy when most eyes were on the tianquan. it was a clause of yours, you told ning that if she took eyes off of you, made people believe that she was the more interesting of the two, you would help her nation. the decision was easy for her. people had already begun talking about her, what were a few more people, a few more rumors?

“you know how i feel about going out and being in the public’s eye. i am perfectly content with the day-to-day minutiae of my life.” you give her a genuine smile. “thank you for your concern, though, ning. i will still try to get out more.”

you both make idle conversation until baixiao’s scurrying back to you with an update. upon her return, baixiao informs you that childe has accepted your dinner invitation. you check the time then excuse yourself, you only have about 3 quarters of an hour left to freshen up. you put on one of your simpler outfits. when going out in public you always went out of your way to blend in, keep a low profile. you didn’t need any unnecessary attention drawn to yourself. that’s why you always made sure to meet childe in private.

being a fatui higher rank, childe had a habit of drawing attention to himself. he even welcomed it more often than not. the first time you met with the flamboyant official, you were lucky enough to be inside of liuli pavilion. he tried to insist on taking you back to the jade chamber himself but you quickly declined, learning fast that he was mostly show.

it didn’t take you long after that first meeting to gather information on the alleged eleventh fatui harbinger. it was just a rumor of course, inklings of what he was and how deep his ties ran with the nation of snezhnaya. after that, however, you knew this man was someone you needed to keep both close and at arms length. he could be useful, but that came with the possibility of him becoming interested in you and your past.

as you make your descent down from the chamber, to the city, you remind yourself to stay composed. childe is one of very few people who knows how to rattle you and he knew that. you’ve learned how to take special care when talking or even moving around the sly man-child. you purposely arrive at the venue 15 minutes early, yet somehow, childe still manages to beat you.

you’re greeted by a head of red hair and a deceivingly charming smile. “you’re late, lady y/n.”

“childe. How many times do i have to tell you to just call me ‘y/n’? and i’m not late. you’re early. to spite me, i presume.” you raise a brow at him in contempt.

childe chuckles as he rises from his seat to pull out the seat at the head of the table, next to him, for you to sit. “presumptuous as always, y/n. i was taught that it’s rude to keep a lady waiting and i know you prefer to show up early to most meetings. i was just being courteous.”

“you? courteous? i never would’ve guessed since you tend to usually have the personality of a wild fox.” despite your harsh words you mumble a gratitude for childe’s chivalrous action.

you watch the man closely as he takes his own seat. something was different about him today. he usually has a charming smile that reaches his eyes and a straight, proud, posture. today however, in addition to the genuine smile, that glint in his eyes was particularly bright and he was a bit more relaxed in his posture, his hair also looked a bit unkempt, more-so than usual anyways. something in you was curious as to what had him so chipper.

as much as you hated to admit it, you had grown fond of the odd friendship you’d grown with the man-child. he was one of very few that was able to banter with you, no restraints. it was refreshing. and although, cunning, you do admire childe’s intelligence. he knew how to play a game of chess with real people, and he knew how to win it almost every time. you were the exception in his mind. after all this time he couldn’t quite get close enough to you to claim a check mate.

you were an anomaly to childe. closed off more so than himself. but where he had formulated a playful and carefree facade, you had closed yourself off entirely. putting up impenetrable walls that were monitored carefully. it made you come off as cold and uninterested. childe knew better than that, having gotten to know you, he found himself looking forward to your time together. more often than not, letting his mind wander to the thought of you. though he would never admit that to himself, let alone anyone else.

childe feigns hurt as he mockingly clutches the left side of his chest and displays a pained expression. “you wound me with your cruel words.”

“don’t be so dramatic. you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“like knives, your words stab my heart.” he lets out a gasped sigh.

with a smirk you retort, “maybe if you weren’t so sensitive, my words wouldn’t affect you so.”

“i am not sensitive.” childe pouts, furrowing his brow in defense.

you’re not sure what it is but childe seemed more…theatrical than normal. further concluding that something about him was different today. unbeknownst to you, it was all your doing. childe hadn’t expected to see you but was pleasantly surprised when he received your invitation. his mood had instantly shifted from indifferent to joyous at the drop of a coin. he radiated enthusiasm and you could pick up on it.

“whatever you say, childe. you’re in a particularly good mood by the way. what’s the reason?”

you’d done it now. you gave him the perfect opportunity to tease you, and of course, childe was going to take it. “isn’t it obvious? ‘m happy to see you, y/n.”

your eyes widen and you feel your face heat up into a blush. you shake yourself out of your shock with your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “s-shut up. you're so ridiculous.” your eyes soften but there’s still a crease between your brows as your bottom lip protrudes out slightly. you were pouting, and it takes all of childe’s willpower not to coo at how precious he thought you looked at this very moment.

“am i now? i thought i was just telling the truth.”

you scoff. “don’t toy with me, childe. either way, we have a matter to attend to.”

“oh? and what is that?” he perks up, interest piqued.

“your agents are being sloppy. ningguang is already under a considerable amount of stress and your spies aren’t helping. she can sense their presence with every move she makes. it’s suffocating. do something about it.” you’re previous playful demeanor is gone, replaced by a stern tone and face.

childe’s eyebrows shoot up. “i forget how perceptive the tianquan is. i’m surprised though, you’re not bothered by the fact i have agents tracking her?”

you shake your head gently. “ningguang didn’t seem bothered by it, as long as she isn’t aware of it much like she is now, what right would i have to be if she isn’t?”

“that’s very diplomatic of you, tianji.”

you roll your eyes. “it is my job to be so. now shut up. you know how i feel about being addressed by my title, especially by people i’m close to.” you flinch, immediately regretting your words when you see the look on the red-head’s face.

“ ��m honored, y/n. i consider us quite close as well. good friends. and as good friends…” childe’s eyes relax and his lips curl into a mischievous smile, “ i feel as though you should spend the day with me tomorrow roaming the city.”

“no. absolutely not.” you declare without missing a beat and cross your arms over your chest in defiance.

“ah, c’mon now, tianji. when was the last time you truly let yourself relax and enjoyed the city below you?”

you huff as you looked away in embarrassment.

“hold on- have you never….”

your head whips back to look at childe sharply. still refusing to confirm that you had never visited liyue harbor beyond liuli pavilion, at least not in this lifetime.

“it’s settled then. i’ll make sure that the spies i send out are being as discreet as possible in exchange for a day out with you.”

“what makes you think i would agree to such a ridiculous trade off?”

childe leans back in his chair, smile exceptionally arrogant, annoyingly so as a matter of fact. “because, lady y/n, i know how much you care for lady ningguang. these are my terms. if you wish to reject, well then my agents will continue to closely follow the tianquan around.”

your jaw tightens and you grind your teeth to prevent yourself from verbally lashing out at childe. you weigh your options. you couldn’t, with good conscience, continue to let the fatui put further stress on your friend when you had the means to change it. you curse your kind hearted nature and willingness to do anything for the ones you cared about.

you let out a defeated sight and let your arms drop from your chest. “fine. tomorrow we will spend the day in the city as you requested. but you will be paying for everything.”

it was just one day, you told yourself. you couldn’t imagine that you could get into any trouble being in the city for one day. no one knew who you were physically, being known as the faceless qixing. only a select few knew what you looked like, the others of the seven and childe being the beginning and end of the list. who knows? it could even end up being enjoyable.

“perfect, i’ll make all the arrangements, so you have nothing to worry about.”

like childe said, you had nothing to worry about. right?

taglist: @kaeyaphoria | @arozaur | @bxnten | @dear-xiao | @sano-obsessed | @cosmotoic | @katsulovee | {7/50}

#genshin impact #genshin #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli angst #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #zhongli x fem!reader #morax #rex lapis #soulmate!au #reincarnation!au #angst

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mysicklove · 4 months

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reader who gets reincarnated lifetime after lifetime and sukuna, who is desperatly in love with you, so he waits each lifetime, only to have the same results: you despising every bone in his body. no matter how weak he makes himself, having tried so many times to get you to fall for him, you always figure out what, who he is, and the cycle repeats. because sukuna may love you, but you will never pine for a monster. and with every death, he waits, and tries again, because maybe one day he will figure it out what it takes to make your heart sing. maybe one day you wont care that he is the king of curses and will give him just a drop of affection. but for now, he kisses your hand, imagining your eyes to be softer, and waits for the familiar slap across his cheek for daring to lay his disgusting hands on you

#🔪 - mello talks too much #fic idea #except i have too many WIPS #LOL #reincarnation au

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tamelee · 1 month

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Sasuke returned to look at the statue for a long time-

#my art #sasuke #naruto #sns fanart #sns #sasunaru #narusasu #reincarnation au #I guess #“Uzumaki Naruto? What happened to him?”#“Ah. An unnecessary sequel and a live-action movie..”#“Hn. Say no more.”#very tragic

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hensel-x · 3 months

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I always feel like somebody's watching me.

#my art #tma #the magnus archives #jonah magnus #gerry keay #also techically albrecht von closen is here too.#cause me and my bestie have a whole ass au with gerry being his reincarnation.#ties really nicely with him burning books and all that #is this art homoerotic? you tell me.

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lostuzumaki · 9 months

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Luffy reincarnated to past AU

Part1 Part2 Part3

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hello-eden · 13 days

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Someone mentioned trans! Talia and it has given me ideas. I might write this in the future but here are just my ideas. This is a sub Au of my Danny! Talia. So it is not at all Canon but if you were wondering Danny is more gender fluid in my og au, though I have not brought it up.

I like the idea that Damien still calls Danny mom. The term in my brain is not gendered for me.

no one to really talk about Talia around Damien at the beginning. In less he brings his mom up, so no one really realizes that Damian uses he/him pronouns for Thalia.

Danny more uses Talia as an alias as a way to dissociate that as a dead name.

ras is probably not super Progressive so this would be definitely kept more Under Wraps so Bruce has no idea. Bruce left before Danny could say anything.

Danny has binders and has definitely cut their hair but uses extensions or wigs when they're around Ras and maybe even Bruce.

Jason definitely met Talia while they were going around as Danny. Talia uses Danny as a way to surveil Jason's Missions with the league with him not knowing.

Damian has definitely gone around Gotham with Danny in Plainview of the bat family but they have no idea because they have no idea to look out for that.

Someone makes a joke about Bruce having tension with some of his female villains and Damian mentions that he has some tension with the male ones too. Damian obviously means their mother but no one has any idea of that so everyone is trying to figure out what Damian means. I think Damien would say it in a sort of tone that makes it seem like it was obvious and then just walk away so no one really gets any answers.

Damien would have no idea that it's something not widely known because Danny never really concealed it. In my AU for Danny! Talia I have Sam and Tucker running around as Danny's right hand man. Damian mostly being raised with people that Danny knows won't betray them so they never really had to censor their words. I also Imagine That Damian doesn't really understand gender as a concept until later as a result of this. I don't mean it in a bad way because he always asks what pronouns people use and then just continues on. The bat family has no idea what causes this in the beginning.

I'm just imagining a little 10-year-old Damien going up to Tim asking his pronouns and then threatening him but using the proper pronouns.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton #batfamily #dc x dp crossover #damian wayne #mom danny #danny reincarnates into talia al ghul au #T!danny al ghul au #batman #batfam

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piratefishmama · 4 months

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i would really like "Works at a museum" Eddie, maybe as a tour guide or something, to find himself hopelessly attracted to a mysterious boy in a painting. A painting that's been there for years, the boy isnt named, there's no information about him anywhere and Eddie has looked, if only to settle a deeply seated curiosity that wont leave him.

was this boy as beautiful inside as he was outside, he doesnt know, he doesnt think he'll ever really know, he's an endless mystery from a time long since forgotten.

Until the boy walks through the double doors of the museum with a gaggle of highschoolers cause "no seriously Steve he looks JUST like you trust us!!"

#prompt #maybe reincarnation AU

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devilatelier · 9 months

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evil baby.

#yasu #this is jkust just like i told you #compiles all the lil sketchies i drew into one page #iny oc #reincarnation!au #i think the perfect penance for naraku would be being reborn away from the object of his desires #and having to help those he tried so hard to fuck over #ok yasuposting done #q

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frantic-fiction · 3 months

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I'll Find My Way Back to You

(Can't find source of pic if it's yours let me know)

Astarion x GN!Reader

Prompt: A century after Tav passes Astarion comes across an artist who is oddly familiar and paints moments that seemed to be pulled straight from Astarion's life.

Thank you to @justporo for letting me use their idea. Go show them some love.

Warnings: Tav's death, brief mention of s*icide, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4.6k (Oops kinda went overboard)

Masterlist

“There’s no world I wish to live in without you,”

“My dear Astarion, we will find our way back to each other. This is not the end.”

Over a century has passed—a long, lonely century without Tav by his side. Astarion doesn’t understand how he’s endured, not with the void in his chest that appeared the moment he laid them to rest. The absence of his person, his love, his Tav, has left Astarion once again alone.

For nearly a decade, he found himself trapped in a state of near-catatonia, a prisoner of time within their empty home. He wasted away, the days blending into one another, each marked by a silent ache in his chest—the void left by Tav’s departure. Tears soaked into the earth of the carefully tended grave, adorned with vibrant flowers from Tav’s garden. He often contemplated surrendering to the sun’s embrace, letting its rays turn his existence to ash for a semblance of peace.

He yearned to end the pain, yet he refrained. He made a promise whispered with heavy hearts and painful sobs—a promise that forced them to confront the harsh reality that Tav would always leave first. Instead of embracing the end, Astarion wasted away, a ghost of his former self, yearning for the return of his love. Change arrived when Tav visited him in a dream; the details were blurry, but Tav’s beautiful smile was etched in memory. The sweet words in that dream eluded him, yet upon waking, a faint lightness settled within him. Astarion graced the night with a flicker of energy for the first time since Tav’s passing.

Tav would have wished for him to move on. They would have wanted him to live. The stagnant life he clung to wasn’t what Tav would want for him. So that day, Astarion gathered his essentials into a bag and set forth as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Only momentarily stopping to bid his love a final, tearful farewell. Since that moment, he hasn’t stopped moving.

Astarion believed Tav would take pride in the life he’s built—the good he’s accomplished over the many years. He traversed all over Faerun, from Waterdeep to Skull Crag, never lingering in one place for too long. He wasn’t the hero Tav was, but he aided towns against monsters, dispatched goblins, and took odd jobs to help however he could. Throughout his travels, he dedicated most of his time to sharing stories of Tav, ensuring their memory lived on. When he first heard the bards’ songs recounting the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he knew he had succeeded. Now, you can’t sit in a tavern without hearing tales and melodies about Tav.

Every day, he longed for Tav to be by his side. He yearned to feel their soft skin, experience their tender kisses, and sense their warm arms encircling his waist—the echo of their laughter dancing in his ears. He missed every aspect of Tav and would do anything to see them again. Yet, the world ran out of miracles for him. Instead, he learned with time to cope, to come to terms with their absence, and keep them close to his heart.

***

Astarion traverses the dusty cobblestone of Wyrm’s Crossing and finds himself back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate—a city he’s consciously avoided for most of the century. It’s a place drenched in memories from his past life with Cazador, but mostly, the streets seem to be haunted by the presence of Tav.

His return to Baldur’s Gate remains shrouded in mystery. All he can discern is that he awoke one day in Daggerford, gripped by an inexplicable yearning to revisit the city. A compelling force tugging him down the Sword Coast, Astarion initially dismissed it as mere homesickness, scoffing at the notion. Yet, the persistent thought lingered, infesting his mind until he could no longer ignore the instinct to return.

The city remains strikingly unaltered despite the passage of time and the trials it endured. The same piss-stained cobblestone, alleyways cluttered with remnants of urban life, and a diverse array of inhabitants navigating the night. It’s an unsettling constant, especially juxtaposed against the transformation of Astarion’s existence.

Wandering through the back alleys and side streets, Astarion meanders aimlessly. Occasionally, a sight triggers memories, evoking a lump in his throat. The Elfsong Tavern, once familiar, now bears a different name and identity, a formal establishment concealing the echoes of nights spent in Tav’s comforting embrace. Bloomride Park, the graveyard, and the docks—all weave together, painting a vivid tapestry of Tav’s omnipresence.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, Astarion grapples with why he subjected himself to this emotional turmoil. The urge to retreat, to flee Baldur’s Gate before the dawn breaks, lingers within him. Yet, the itch persists, buried deep within his bones, propelling him forward. He silently promises himself the night to wander the city, and by this time tomorrow, he will be on his way to another town for another adventure.

Venturing into a dim, isolated street, Astarion observes a solitary lamplight spilling its soft glow from a store window. Peering through, he discovers a small art studio. Within, a graceful elf seems to dance with a paintbrush, each stroke deliberate yet flowing. Like a harpie song, Astarion is mesmerized and utterly captivated. He watches on silently, observing the elves happily consumed with their work. It gives him a wave of nostalgia, moments of watching Tav as they painted, unaware he was watching from the door. Astarion could almost hear the sweet hums that filled the room between brush strokes.

Then he freezes, gaze snapping to the paintings that adorn the studio, scattered reflections of his life. Images of Karlach, Shadowheart, and all the others grace the space. However, it’s the depictions of himself that seize his breath. Compelled by an unseen force, Astarion walks right into the studio. In a far corner, he sees an intimate portrayal—an embrace that resonates with familiarity.

The bell rings, and you break from your artistic trance. Startled, you look up, and there stands the pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves. Startled, you look up, and there stands a pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves.

The dreams began as mere fragments—white curls, sharp teeth, delicate hands. Gradually, they evolved into more vivid scenes—muffled conversations by a campfire, laughter and gentle shoves, and stolen kisses between bed sheets—private moments of a stranger, a byproduct of an active imagination intertwined with an elven crush. Or at least that was what your mother would say. Now, the subject of those dreams stands before you.

Astarion, surrounded by the art that mirrors his life, fixates on a miniature portrait. The details are hazy, yet he recalls the campfire, the desperation in his gaze, and a significant confession followed by an embrace.

You pick up a fallen brush with a trembling hand, placing it in a water cup. Asterion was just as breathtakingly beautiful as your dream portrayed, but to see him in person has your heart hammering in your chest and your breath quickening with nerves. Wiping paint-covered hands on your smock, you took a deep breath and gathered the courage to approach Astarion.

Staring at the portrait, you utter quietly, “This one’s my favorite. Though I wish I could have captured the others’ images better.”

“Tav.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The person you painted. My partner Tav, they used to paint too,” Astarion’s voice carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Oh, yes. They were the leader of your group, if I remember correctly. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Astarion remains silent, the canvas now a source of unbearable memories. He moves through the studio, examining the art up close. It’s weird to have your muse perusing around your gallery. It’s embarrassing to have Astarion see just how many pieces have been dedicated to him. What do you do at this point? Should you follow him, tell him about each piece and the dreams behind them? No, that seems pretentious, so you retreat to the canvas you’ve been working on for the better part of the week.

This piece was different—a symbol rather than a person or scene. Rings of unknown runes fan out in jagged edges, evoking a sense of beauty tinged with profound sadness. It disturbed you to your core, but you needed to paint it. It’s how it always goes. Once a dream pops into your head, whether it’s a scene, a person, or a symbol, it refuses to leave until you’ve laid it on a canvas. Picking up the brush, you dip it back into the red paint and continue to bolden the lines.

“Who are you?” Astarion’s voice is right behind you; you jump, knocking a pot of paint over. Cursing softly, you quickly right the pot, attempting to salvage the spilled paint. Paint isn’t cheap, and in your non-upper-class circumstances, every drop is precious.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I have been very rude,” you offer your name. “I, of course, already know you, Astarion. It’s hard not to come across the tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, but I guess—” Your rambling trails off pathetically as something changes in Astarion. There’s tension in his shoulders, a coldness in his eyes. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously play with a loose thread on the smock.

Astarion scrutinizes you with a piercing gaze, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for hidden truths. The air becomes taut, charged with an almost palpable intensity. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he reacts like a tightly wound rubber band snapping. Reaching out, he harshly pulls you to him, bearing his teeth at you. Your stomach drops, shocked by the aggression.

“Have you been following me? Stalking me?” His voice carries a storm of anger, his grip on your shoulders unyielding, the coldness of his touch akin to ice piercing through the fabric of your being. “Don’t lie to me because I’ve shown one person that fucking scar, and I buried them.”

Your heart races, fear coursing through your veins as you whimper a response, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t lie!”

“Please, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know; I have dreams; I don’t know why, b-but I dream of you,” your voice falters, and your vulnerability is laid bare. “I dream of you, your friends, and places I’ve never been. I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I promise.”

As abruptly as his hands seized you, they vanished, leaving you stumbling to your knees, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your face. Curling in on yourself, you can’t stop the cries of apologies and promises of never picking up a brush again, of burning every last piece in the room.

Astarion looks down at you, his expression shifting from anger to a complex amalgamation of horror and something else—perhaps realization. Stepping away, he leaves you rooted to the spot. Your gaze fixed blankly out the window. Odd and conflicting emotions swirl within you—fear, confusion, longing?—all clashing fiercely. Amidst the tumult, one thought emerges with undeniable clarity—this won’t be the last time you see Astarion.

Astarion’s breaths come in ragged gasps as he runs through the barren streets, escaping the grasp of the haunting memories that threaten to consume him. His thoughts are a raging storm, and he pays no heed to the bewildered faces of those he rudely pushes past. The town of Rivington is a blur as he sprints through it, a desperate escape, picking a direction and refusing to stop until his body aches, halting only when the sun begins its ascent above the horizon.

In his frantic need to run, there was no consideration for shelter from the sun’s relentless rays. Mercifully, he stumbles upon an abandoned cave. Dry, dusty, and shrouded in darkness, it becomes his refuge. In a corner, he sinks slowly against the cool, rough wall to the ground, seeking solace in the obscurity.

Astarion pulls his knee to his chest, pressing his forehead against his crossed arms. Shaking and shivering, a stark contrast to the bitter summer heat enveloping the cave, he clings to his vulnerability. Eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, fingernails dig deep into his arms as if attempting to anchor himself in the reality that threatens to crumble around him.

Desperation claws at him, and he yearns for Tav. The desire to feel Tav’s warm embrace, hands crossing over his chest, pulling him close, torments him. He longs for the soft whispers of love and the gentle press of lips. Astarion can’t navigate this without Tav. He’s a mess, barely holding on, living each agonizing day, acutely aware that the best part of him is gone, and he can do nothing to reclaim it.

The cruelty of encountering such intimate moments from his past life with Tav wounds him deeply. These were moments meant for him and Tav alone. Realizing that a stranger could capture those cherished memories intended for one person alone turns his stomach.

Anger becomes a conduit for his overwhelming emotions, and the terrified look on the artist’s face is etched in his mind, an indelible scar on his conscience. Shame burns within him, a searing reminder of the boundaries he violated. Physically assaulting someone in their own space—what would Tav think of him now?

The artist adds another layer to Astarion’s confusion. The familiarity is uncanny—the excited calf raises, the almost-stumbles afterward, the nervous lip biting, puffed cheeks during deep concentration, and the mindless dancing when no one is watching. Every little thing the artist did mirrored Tav, and with all his memories physically displayed, Asterion finds himself lost in a sea of confusion. Why does this stranger resemble his love so deeply?

The bards’ tales of soulmates and reincarnation, once dismissed as mere children’s stories and fiction, now claw at the edges of Astarion’s consciousness. What if? What if Tav found their way back to him? Weirder things have happened in his long life, and the possibility plants a seed of hope within him.

Yet, he forcefully suppresses that hope. It won’t serve him, not now. Instead, he resolves to learn more. By nightfall, he returns to the city, catching the first boat to Waterdeep. After a day and some change, he stands outside the Wizards’ tower, resentment simmering as he contemplates turning to Gale, his best chance at answers.

A groan escapes Astarion as he hangs his head, and a series of knocks echo on the thick wooden door. “This better be worth it…”

The door swings open on its own into a dimly lit foyer. Astarion follows a familiar path, the cool air and faint scent of ancient tomes embracing him. He ascends the staircase with nostalgia and reluctance, each step echoing the countless times Tav and himself sought knowledge and assistance within these walls.

As he pushes open the study door, a scene unfolds before him. Gale is hunched over a worn scroll, graying hair ruffled, and a small pair of reading glasses set on the tip of his nose. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance. Notes adorn the margins, evidence of Gale��s ceaseless quest for understanding.

Gale looks up, a broad, warm smile gracing his features, and Astarion is momentarily transported back to the times when this sage was only a joke he poked fun at across camp. Removing his reading glasses, Gale pushes up from his desk, an air of welcoming familiarity enveloping the room.

“Well, look who the tressym dragged in. How are you, Astarion?”

Astarion stiffens as he is pulled into a spontaneous hug by Gale. The embrace is both unexpected and oddly comforting, a physical manifestation of the genuine camaraderie they’ve shared through the years. Astarion, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, awkwardly pats Gale’s back before gently pulling away.

“I’m afraid I’ve been better.”

Gale’s eyes convey concern and understanding as he gestures for Astarion to sit. The worn chair creaks under the weight of memories and the weightier burden of Astarion’s troubled soul.

“Then sit down, my friend, and tell me how I can help.”

***

Days of tireless research and a network of favors exchanged between magical acquaintances have led them to a glimmer of hope. Though not expansive, the discovery hints at the possibility that souls entwined so tightly may have a magnetic pull toward each other. A pull is so strong that souls can find each other in different lifetimes. Tales have described soulmates experiencing memories from previous lifetimes together, but they were vague at best. The specific remains elusive, shrouded in mystery, yet it’s enough to kindle a spark of hope within Astarion’s lonely heart.

Gale, ever the bore, offers a gentle reminder, “Now, just remember, if you try to force feelings before—”

“I would never!” Astarion’s retort carries a venomous edge, an unspoken warning to watch his following words carefully. Gale raises his hands in defense.

“My point is the brain is a prickly thing. It’s best not to rush anything it’s not ready for.”

“Yes, yes, you have said this five times already. Would you please activate the portal? I have an apology to make.”

Anticipation hums in the air, a palpable energy that courses through Astarion. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his grief is replaced by a glimmer of life.

Looking at Astarion with a fondness born of shared trials, Gale responds, “Of course, Astarion.”

With a confident shake of his wrist, he activates the magical circle, and the room is bathed in a radiant glow of bright runes, their purple luminescence dancing in the semi-darkness.

Astarion steps toward the portal, his heart pulsating with trepidation and newfound hope. However, before crossing the threshold, he turns around to face Gale, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Gale. I will not forget this.”

“It was my pleasure. Now, I expect to meet this lovely artist sooner rather than later.” Gale’s parting words hang in the air, infused with the hope of rekindling a connection beyond the realms of understanding.

Back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion swiftly navigated the bustling streets, an air of anticipation accompanying him. His purpose was clear—to reach your studio and beg for your forgiveness. A brief pause along the way allowed him to acquire a small bundle of daisies, a spontaneous choice fueled by the memory of Tav’s fondness for these delicate blooms.

As Astarion approached the studio, a surge of uncertainty clawed at him. Hesitation gripped his every step, the shadow of fear etched across his features. The fear in your eyes during the last encounter was seared into his memory. Had his previous outburst irreparably damaged any chance of reconciliation? The conflicting forces of his desire to see you again and the instinct to flee wrestled within him. Yet, he pressed forward, forcing himself down the street, and there you stood.

The scene that greeted him was a chaotic masterpiece of colors. Paint adorned your cheeks and arms, a testament to the artistic fervor that consumed you. Your hair, a cascade of untamed strands, framed a face that mirrored both exhaustion and creative passion. Astarion had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and press a soft kiss to your cheek, something he often did with Tav.

Your weariness was palpable—shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps, he pondered, he should postpone this encounter, allowing you the reprieve of rest. The realization that he might be the last person you wanted to see compelled Astarion to take a step back, an unspoken retreat.

But just as he moved to leave, your eyes jumped up to meet his, you froze mid-stroke, and Astarion couldn’t read your expression. He should go. Why did he think this was a good idea? He’s just about to run when you nod for him to come in. Obliging, Astarion found himself standing awkwardly within the studio; you went back to painting. Your brush danced across the canvas, applying a vibrant shade of blue in deliberate strokes. Astarion’s attempts to break the silence faltered, his words dissolving into the room’s stillness.

“What are you doing here, Astarion?” The steadiness in your voice pierced the calm. You tried to hold on to your anger for the man all week. But upon seeing him standing so lost on the street had your resolve crumbling. You can’t deny the mild excitement that fluttered through your veins upon seeing him again.

His voice, momentarily lost, found its way back. “I-I came here to apologize for last week. My behavior was deplorable, and I wish to make things right.”

A wry amusement flickered in your eyes as you evaluated the bouquet, now slightly worse for wear under his tight grip. “And you believe a bundle of broken daisies would win you my forgiveness?”

Astarion, caught off guard, looked down at the bruised bouquet. “Um…well, I was hoping for roses, but they were fresh out.”

A snort escaped you as you put down your paintbrush and approached him. A tentative touch on his forearm transferred the flowers from his grasp to yours, eliciting a shiver down his spine. The longing to reach out is strong, but Astarion holds still as you retreat.

Intently studying the daisies, you began to divide the bundle into two piles. Astarion watched silently, recognizing echoes of Tav’s essence reflected in your actions. While understanding that you were not Tav, the profound sorrow gripping his heart seemed to ease in your presence.

“Half,” you declared suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Half of the daisies survived.”

“And where does that leave us?”

With a theatrical flair, you pondered the question, pacing the room. “That, good sir, is the question. What is my forgiveness worth? I did luck out; daisies are my favorite, so you’re a step farther than roses would have gotten you.”

Astarion, grasping the playful undertone, decided to play along. With a hand on his hips and a wicked smirk, he responded, “Well, I am a pretty lucky man. Now, please, I beg, what more can I do to gain your forgiveness?”

You hummed softly, tapping your chin. You keep Astarion in suspense for a moment before you suddenly turn to the man. “How about…I get dressed, you take me out to dinner, and we’ll go from there?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The agreement hung in the air, a hope for something more lingering.

***

The dinner evolved into an evening stroll, a seamless transition from pleasant chatter to playful banter. It was an unexpected evening, but the time spent with Astarion was so easy, so familiar you didn’t want it to end. Reading about the saviors of Baldur’s Gate was intriguing, and dreaming of a vampiric elf held its allure, but nothing compared to the tangible presence of the real Astarion.

Astarion embodied the epitome of perfection – handsome, intelligent, and endowed with a wit that had you giggling all night. He was the quintessential gentleman, the embodiment of every mother’s hopeful wish for their child.

What started as a single date quickly snowballed into a series of enchanting encounters – one date led to two, then five, until you found yourself drawn into his orbit every week. The pace was exhilarating, and being around Astarion felt like being charged with an electric current. It was not just addictive; it was a whirlwind of happiness, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

If one indulged in whimsical tales, the idea that Astarion might be your soulmate would have crossed your mind. His ability to read you so intimately sometimes felt like he delved into the depths of your mind.

The dreams persisted, evolving into a kaleidoscope of memories that intertwined your moments with Astarion and a phantom era where someone else shared his company. Astarion, at times, would cast glances at you as you transferred another dream to canvas, an anticipation lingering in his eyes. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t veil the disappointment when the visions resulted in nothing more than another painting adorning the wall.

Then, it occurred on a serene spring day, three years since Astarion first entered your studio. The sun had yet to set, and you found solace curled up with Astarion. Limbs tangled, chests pressed together, hands intertwined – a tableau of intimate connection. His cold nose nestled against the crook of your neck, his white curls playfully tickling your nose.

Behind your closed eyelids, soft images of a forest clearing unfolded – Astarion shirtless, beckoning you towards him. Something clicked, and suddenly, the foreign memories that greeted you each night became a mosaic of your own experiences. The floodgates opened, overwhelming you with a lifetime of moments – kisses beneath the stars, laughter resonating around a campfire, and heart-stopping close calls with death.

Astarion often spoke of Tav, a robust and kind soul who played a pivotal role in shaping him. He wouldn’t be who he is today without them. You now knew a bit better; yes, you had nudged him along the way, but his growth was his own, and you couldn’t be more proud. To think of the years he spent without you, the grief he must have had to push through. If the roles were reversed, you don’t believe you would have been strong enough to keep going.

Startled from his slumber, Astarion found your body descending upon his, your hand meeting his chest with firm slaps. “Stop you, little gremlin.” Groggily, he attempted to restrain you in a tender embrace. He was met with your swift departure from his lap. He heard the patter of your feet retreating from the bed.

“You are a bastard, Astarion!”

Fully alert and by your side instantly, “What did I do, my sweet?”

Worry etched into every crease of his face as he cupped your jaw, looking frantically into your eyes. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand reaching out to caress the skin of his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Astarion scrutinized your face, his eyes delving deep into yours. The faintest furrow of his brows betrayed his thoughts. As if following an unspoken script, he pulled you in by the waist, foreheads gently meeting.

Glistening with unshed tears, Astarion whispered, “You remember?” His voice trembled.

“Yes… maybe it’s all still tangled. But yes, I remember Tav – well, I remember us.”

Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs peeking out, and his lips met yours in a heated kiss spinning the two of you around the room. It was a slow dance of lips as if Astarion had all the time in the cosmos to savor this moment. While you could quickly lose yourself in the embrace, you were privy to all his subtle tricks. You turned your face when he attempted to draw you back into the kiss.

“Gods, Astarion, for three years, you knew and never said anything. I’ve painted you for almost as long as I could wield a brush, and for three years, you knew why!” Another slap graced his chest, and tears trickled down your cheeks, eagerly wiped away by his thumbs.

“I wanted to, my love. The moment I realized I wanted to. But this couldn’t be rushed; you can’t rush the mind.”

“Star, I’m so sorry I took so long,”

“No, stop; you took as long as you needed to return to me.” His forehead rests against yours once more, and the room stands still for a moment. “What matters is you’re here, in my arms, and I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

A choked sob mingled with a chuckle, and you nuzzled closer into Astarion, hiding your face into his neck. “Gods, I love you, Astarion.”

“And I love you.”

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Okay loves, let me know what you think. I've been working on this for over a week and still find some sections I'm not all that happy with, but I want to move on to other pieces. Any and every interaction makes my day.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #reader insert #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #fanfic #writing #soulmates #soulmate au #reincarnation #frantic fiction

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