#to anyone who has been reading my tags hello hi thanks for reading this far; have yall looped songs for so long like i did | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milksuu · 11 months

Text

Second Magic

Pairing(s): Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & II / witch!fem!reader

Word count: 2.OK

Content/Warnings: soulmates, reincarnation, immortal, soft magic, slice of life, fluff, minimal use of y/n, minor angst, implied sexual themes, minor blood

Summary: Death claims everyone at some point. Unfortunately for you, your gift of magic cursed you with eternal youth and an ability that has shunned you from the village of Berk. More than one-hundred years later, memories resurface when you’re visited for a potion from Berk’s next chief.

He was the spitting image of your long-lost love—your soulmate—Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II.

a/n: hello there everyone! I'm back with something new to add to the hiccupxreader tags. still on my mythical/magical kick. I do plan to have about three parts to this. so please stay tuned for updates, or let me know if you'd like to join a tag list. thank you and please enjoy.

There came a knock at the door. No one ever knocked on a witch's door by accident.

From the bedroom window, you peeked through the muslin curtain. Below the two-story cottage, grew a garden of lush greens and wild flowers. Where the weeds and dandelions led a trail to your front porch, a figure stood at your door. More pestering thuds bothered the home and the skin of your nose wrinkled. Muttering a thing or two, you ambled down the aching stairs. Before reaching the door, you rummaged through a decorative drawer, procuring a gray river rock. It was enchanted with one of your magic spells—a screeching stone, you called it.

“You can stop trying to break down my door,” you said, pressing the stone against the entryway. “Didn’t you read the sign posted on the oak tree outside? Clearly, it said no trespassing.”

“No—think I might’ve missed it,” the muffled voice of a young man answered, and it seemed honest enough. The stone hummed at the response. “Are you [Y/N], by chance?”

“There’s a chance I could be,” you said with soured lips. “Not many people come this far into the woods. And fewer people know of me, let alone my name. Which leads me to ask, who exactly sent you?”

“Gothi sent me. She mentioned you two knowing each other,” he replied in truth, and the stone continued its soft hymns. “She said if there’s anyone who could help me, it would be you.”

She’s still alive?

“That all depends. I trust Gothi, but I’ll need to trust you as well. You can start by telling me your name.”

There was a beat in the air. “It’s Hiccup.”

The ghost of your breath trapped itself inside your chest. That name—it had been buried beneath over a century ago. Yet the stone sang sweetly, and your heart squeezed in a haunting delight. A part of you wished it would scream. Wretched and revolting as it was, it would give you reason to cast the stranger away.

To your grief, he wasn’t so much a stranger as you thought.

Pocketing the stone, you opened the door with a creak. Meeting the green meadow of his eyes, your magic dug its fiery claws between your ribs. With all your power, you tried not to let his familiar freckles unsettle you. Fearing if you did, your magic would spring out of control. The windows would shatter. The roof would crumble to dust. The fireplace would spark and scorch the floors. Or something much worse. Touch him, and reveal when death would knock on his own door.

You wouldn’t let that happen. Not again. Not ever.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open wider. “Come in,” you said, "we can talk more inside.”

He tipped his chin and thanked you for the invitation. When he stepped through, his gaze swept about your home. Dried flowers, herbs and spices hung from every inch of ceiling by twine. Sunlight spilled from the white-painted windows, and warmed the cushions of two chairs perched near the fireplace. Bookcases stood on either side of the mantle, stretched tall enough to touch the rafters, and wide enough to cover the entire walls. At the back of the home was the kitchen and brewing space. With emerald cabinets and honied-countertops, stacked with jars and vials, scattered petals, and corked potions.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said. “I’ll prepare us something warm to drink.”

With a blink, he tore his gaze from the foliage and oddities. “Sure, I would appreciate it.”

When you left for the kitchen, he absently traced a hand against the chairs upholstery. Although it matched its counterpart, there were subtle differences; the legs were built taller, and arm rests crafted higher. When he took a seat, it felt made for someone of his stature—an odd thing to notice. His gaze raised to a row of books on one of the bookcase shelves. One particular book stood out among the jewel-toned backs of scarlet, green, and yellow. A simple spine of leather, softened over-time with use, and streaks of charcoal staining the edges.

Like a cool breeze, a sense of familiarity swept through him, touching the marrow of his bones. It begged the question.

“Have you always lived here by yourself?” Hiccup asked.

“You could say that.”

For a moment, you lost yourself in the fragrant pools. When was the last time you served someone tea? It may have been the day before a young man's mortal fate—the same day you couldn’t convince him to stay. Leaving you to join the collection of things he left behind. Your throat tightened around what felt like a ball of hot wax. Searing as it was, you swallowed its entirety.

Balancing the trembling porcelain, you returned to the next room and took a seat of your own.

“I’m sorry if I was rude earlier. I’ve…never welcomed visitors. It’s always been safer that way.” With a smile, you offered him a cup. “But between Gothi sending you and your genuine nature, I’d like to help you.”

“Thanks—and you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m the one who decided to come here unannounced. So…” Hiccup trailed off, taking a drink. He stared at the ripples with solemnity. “My father isn’t doing so well. And you know Gothi, she’s the best Seer we have on Berk. She’s done all she can, but it’s not going to be enough. When I asked if there was anything more I could do, she recommended that I seek you out.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” you said, lowering your own cup. “If Gothi wasn’t able to help him, then he must be very sick.”

“I’m trying not to think about it too much.” He worked the tension of his lips between his teeth. Then pitched a sincere look your way, and said, “So you know, I’m not worried about you being a witch. If anything, I find myself pretty lucky to ask for your help. Even if that does mean I have to sell my soul for it.”

“I have some good news for you, then. I won’t be needing it. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t even know what to do with yours,” you said with a laugh. “But most spells and potions require something of personal value. At least, the stronger ones do.”

Setting your tea cup aside, you hopped onto your toes. Approaching one of the bookcases, you trailed a finger against the backs of countless titles. Your search came to an end when you plucked one out; dense with musky pages, a silver lock clasped at the side, and a small wooden door carved into the cover.

Peering over your shoulder, you found your nosy company arched forward in his chair. You cleared your throat, “Don’t think about peeking over here. A witch never reveals her secrets.”

He apologized under his breath, and shifted his chin away. But like a child snuffed out of his curiosity, he wore a pout of disappointment. You smiled in amusement, and brought your attention back to the book.

You knocked against the small door in a melodic tempo. The little door sprang open, revealing a tiny ear inside. You brought your mouth close, whispering the incantation with the smallest voice you could muster. Too loud, and the door would snap shut against your lips.

An unpleasant experience you remembered from childhood.

The lock clicked open, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Page after page, you mumbled and zipped through each recipe. A couple more turns, you tapped against the right one. Breezing through the ingredients, you had all but one. Oh buttercups, you blushed.

“What is it?” Hiccup furrowed his brows at your dawning expression. “Everything all right?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain. I—I don’t have one of the ingredients any longer. But maybe you still do,” you exclaimed, taming the warmth of your cheeks. “Come with me.”

With a tilt of your head, you gestured to the kitchen. Your guest rose from his seat, following your footsteps. With instructions for him not to touch anything, you scrambled to find your proper ingredients; mugwort, newt tail, bog water, and a strand of witch hair. Tossed and muddled by mortar and pestle, you poured the mixed contents into a glass jar.

“Time for the last ingredient,” you said, picking up a kitchen knife, “hold out a finger.”

Although hesitant, he lifted a hand. “Tell me you’re not going to cut it off. I’m already down a leg, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Not at all. That would be more than what I actually need,” you answered, albeit a little too plainly. With your other hand, you touched the stone tucked in your dress pocket. “You only have to be honest when I ask you this question. If you’re not, then we’ll both hear about it.”

He nodded carefully. “Go ahead.”

“Have you ever—Oh, how should I put this?” Calming the storm of embarrassment brewing in your chest, you exhaled the words in one breath. “Have you ever committed the coupling act?”

There was a gulp. Then a twitch of his lips. Followed by a blush that bloomed from nose to ear. “What? No, I—I haven’t. What kind of question is that?”

Without a word, you sliced the tip of his finger. A hiss sizzled from his mouth when you squeezed it open. Aligning the bottle underneath, you caught the blood falling in pitter-patters. Once enough dripped into the brew, a plum of red smoke burst into the air. Both of you coughed and waved your hands around the space. When the pungent cloud faded into wisps, you corked the bubbling potion.

“A warning would’ve been nice.” He wrapped his finger in a handkerchief you provided. He went on to mutter, “Not sure why you couldn’t use your own finger.” By the delivery, the last part was meant to stay in his head.

Embarrassment washed through your veins, and painted every inch of your skin posy pink. The sight of it colored his own complexion.

“I didn’t mean to say that, honestly,” he apologized after the realization struck him. “It just sort of came out.”

“Absolutely no tact at all,” you chastised, snatching back the handkerchief. “Gods, you’re just as bad as him.”

He blinked with mystification. “Him?”

A slip of the tongue had the back hairs of your neck bristling. Magic pulsed like coils of lightning in your stomach. Crackling up through your chest, wanting to burn deeper holes in your heart. The roof groaned and creaked. Grains of wood dust fell onto your nose, dispelling the awful feeling.

“You have to go. Please, take it and leave. And don’t worry about repaying me.” Before he could argue, you forced the potion into his possession. With a clap of a hand, the wood beneath his feet shifted, motioning him out the front door.

“Wait a second.“ He wedged his prosthetic between the shutting door and frame. “Right bookcase, third shelf, leather back.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“There’s a book that belongs to my family. Ask me how I know.” The question was rhetorical, and in your bafflement, he continued. “My families crest is sealed in its spine. And the only way you could have it is if someone gave it to you. You said you never had visitors. Sorry to say, but I’m not buying it.”

“That book has nothing to do with you or your family,” you glowered, and the stone screeched and howled from your pocket. You clapped your hands against your splitting ears, with your company mimicking your movements. Over the prevailing wails, you cried, “You’re right—I lied and I’m sorry for it! It belonged to your great-grand uncle. And that’s the truth of it.”

The screeching stone fell to whispers. But the thumping of your heart continued to beat in your ears.

“Wait. My great-grand uncle?” He caught a breath in his throat. “You don’t mean—there’s no possible way you’re talking about—”

“I am.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “My only visitor before you; Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II.”

#hiccup x reader #httyd #hiccup httyd #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock ii #reader insert #httyd fanfiction #httyd 2 #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup x you #httyd book references #you bet we're going to get some flashbacks of hiccup the second #buckle up dragon riders #we're expecting some angst in this fanfic

535 notes · View notes

dearestxiao · 2 months

Text

the color blue: neon [part 2] | yandere xiao x reader, yandere venti x reader

synopsis: the days until you finally meet your penpal has been ticking by so quickly, but with a new tutor, a clingy roommate, and a professor who seems to only want the worst for you, it's hard to keep track of time. WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT, yandere characters, creepy xiao is creepy (lots of potentially uncomfortable thoughts from his perspective), heavily implied stalking, possessiveness, manipulation, dub-con touching, student-teacher dynamic, age gap (reader is 21+ and zhongli is 27+, feel free to adjust as need be). let me know if I need to add anything! reader is gender neutral.

wc: 10.7k

author notes: I wanted to first say thank you for the wait, and I hope that everybody is able to enjoy the changes and edits I’ve made to the story. I also wanted to say thank you to the mutuals who had helped me create the original version of the story. it has been a long time since then, and I’m not entirely sure if they’re still active (OTZ), so I’m not sure if they would still like to be tagged but I am forever grateful to them. this is the last exposition heavy chapter, as well as my last read edit/re-upload of a chapter, so the next few chapters will be much meatier with new content!!! again, thank you so much for the wait. love you all! as always, reblogs are very appreciated if enjoyed and if possible!

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏” ♡♡♡ [part 1]

dark content. minors do not interact. do not repost/link.

from xiao's room, there's a perfect view of the town a bit away from campus that greets him everytime he steps inside. it's a gorgeous sight, which is something he could admit, even though he didn’t choose the place himself, one anyone would be grateful for. the town is bright and bustling even still, and it’s only now starting to dim down. it’s getting late into the night, with flashy lights and beautiful architecture and homey buildings, and so many people, people, people.

there are still families on an outing, and cute couples going on dates. shop owners sweeping around their store. he can see as the everyday salaryman walks back home, accompanying the students on their own way home from classes; he can see so many lives being lived from his isolated little tower.

and yet, on nights like these, no matter how enchanting the view, xiao usually prefers to keep his blinds tightly shutー out of sight, out of mind. jealousy is a vile thing, isn't it? it's nasty, tainting your view of the world, of the things you love. after the first few weeks after xiao had moved in, the view quickly lost the charm it once had. because at the end of the day, to him, the view only serves as a cruel reminder of just how alone xiao is and always has been.

it dangles around a painful reminder of the things xiao can never have. it's so close, yet so far out of reach.

but despite his usual bitterness, xiao doesn’t bother closing the blinds tonight, because tonight, he has hope, hope that he could one day be like the many walks of life he sees everyday from his apartment window. hope that he’ll have something worth wondering about.

xiao sits himself on his bed, the second biggest source of comfort in his life right now. for some reason, he feels awfully nervous. he knows why, but he can’t help but wish that awful feeling away. for a split second, he can’t help but wish he was as confident and fearless as... no. he won’t think like that, not right now, at least. he shakes away the thought. butterflies jitter all up and around his stomach as his shaky hands picks up his phone and dials numbers, your numbers. the digits are already memorized by heart.

he tries to calm his nerves as he presses the phone up to his ear after hitting the call button, nails digging into the pajamas he changed into when he got home. he thickly swallows, waiting as patiently as he can, like usual.

ring. rinnng. rinnnnnggg.

it doesn't take too long for you to pick up.

"hello?" he finally hears.

it's only one word (and a pretty basic one at that), but xiao can already hear the soft underlying shyness of your voice. his mouth naturally opens a little agape. you've always been nervous around those you weren't close to. your voice sends him into a state of bliss, so much so his brain is too foggy to reply until you coo out another hello, questioning if anyone is there on the other line due to the silence.

he almost has to force himself to speak "It's… xiao," he blinks, not even saying hello back, "from professor zhongli's class," xiao almost slips up by saying the name you know him much better by. “you… we spoke on the train. I don’t know if you remember,” he manages to stutter out.

you had seemed pretty out of it when you two talked earlier that very same day. you must’ve been so exhausted to have fallen asleep like that, right next to him. he’s still replaying the site of it over and over, the way you were struggling so hard to stay awake, head bobbing back and forth. it was probably embarrassing for you, but it was a pleasant sight for him. the soft puff of your cheeks and the furrow of your brows, the shallowness of your breath and how relaxed you looked. it made him feel like a creep, staring at you in that state, such an intimate state, a vulnerable state.

it’s why he had held back as long as he could before finally tapping you awake, wanting to bask in the precious sight for longer.

he snaps back to finally finish his explanation, “…you gave me your number earlier today," he says it less as a reminder to you, but instead as a reminder to himself. he bites his lip, waiting for you to respond, wishing he could see what you looked like right now.

in the meantime, he remembers how your eyes had begrudgingly opened back up at the feeling of him touching you. he remembers the warmth of your body that felt like it could melt his finger tips from the heat. he wishes he could see and feel both much more often, but xiao is patient. lord, is he patient.

he remembers how embarrassed you looked as you sat up in your seat, trying to reorient yourself. “sorry, what did you say?” you finally had spoken after getting settled. you must’ve been too frazzled to hear him the first time. he cleared his throat before he repeated himself, this time a little louder, a little less shy than the first time around.

“I asked which stop you get off at.” you looked at him with eyes big with confusion. he hoped, desperately (he’s always so desperate), that he hadn’t made you feel anything negative.

he made sure to explain the question in hopes that it made you feel more comfortable and not as confused. “…I can wake you up before you get there, if you’d like.”

despite his wants, he needed to make sure you were safe, and were able to actually get home. if he didn’t ‘protect’ you, who would? definitely not that roommate of yours.

to his (would be short-lived) disappointment you had shaken your head. “no, it’s fine. I really shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place.” you had paused for a short second before saying, “thank you, though, xiao.” he doesn’t like to remember how he almost shivered at the sound of his name coming from your lips, nor how he had to turn his head as he nodded because he could feel heat creep up it.

"oh, yes, xiao! sorry, I wasn't expecting you to call so soon. what can I do for you?"

“you asked on the train if I could tutor you. I wanted to set something up.”

it’s true, even if xiao can’t believe it himself. he knew this day would come, but didn’t expect it to be this soon. after several minutes of silence between you two, (or at least as silent as it could be on a train), you had turned to him, as if remembering something, getting his attention before you asked him something.

“sorry if this is coming out of nowhere. I was wondering if…” you took a breath, and xiao had almost sworn you were bordering scared as you finished your question. “I was wondering if you could possibly tutor me for zhonglis class? I don’t know if you’d be able to, but I spoke to him earlier today, and he recommended asking you for help.”

and of course he had said yes, to your surprise. he remembers thinking, silently, that maybe the universe was rewarding him for being so patient, and he had to keep his cool the best he could.

now here he is, actually setting something up. “would tomorrow with you?”

"yes!," you let out a nervous little laugh at your uncontrollable excitement. xiao can just picture the smile you have on your face, all shy and awkward and cute. "that would work great, I think. I really wasn't expecting you to set something up so quickly. I'm grateful though."

xiao would make the tutoring session today during the dead of night if he could. of course he would set something up so quickly.

you don't need to know that, though.

xiao hums at your words. "we… we can have our first session at my place, if you're comfortable with that." he realizes he might be coming off too strong, so he adds, "but we can have it somewhere else too." he hopes you agree to the first suggestion though.

"t-that'd be great, yeah. whatever works for you, works for me."

"I'll text you the address and the time, then… and we can discuss more sessions or a schedule and stuff further.”

"that sounds good. thank you so much again." you repeat, and he can hear the relief in your voice. it should be him thanking you, really.

"of course. goodnight."

“goodnight!” you repeat before you both hang up. a wave of bliss strikes his body.

but he isn’t going to sleep, not yet, atleast. Instead, he’s going to stay up all night, right in front of his window, thinking of all the possible lives he’s about to live.

he’ll make sure to thank zhongli for that in the morning.

ーーー NEW MESSAGE ーーー ☆

[name]: I don't think you understand how nervous I am right now

[name]: my hands are shaking and everything

alatus: why? is something wrong?

[name]: you know how I told you how I wasn't doing the greatest in one of my courses?

alatus: of course. did something happen?

[name]: the most intimidating guy I've ever met in my life is my tutor now

[name]: and I have no idea how this first session is gonna go

alatus: I think you’ll be fine. you shouldn’t worry yourself

alatus: you should let me know how everything goes.

ーーー☆

xiao's home is, to put it simply, unique.

you were left awestruck as soon as you stepped into the small but gorgeous studio apartment, shocked by both the feeling of jealousy creeping up your spine and the thought of how someone could possibly afford such an apartment, especially as a college student. no matter how xiao manages to afford his place, though, his home daunts over you.

there's a large window that lines the wall his bed and desk are propped up against and you can't help but imagine just how xiao would look as he looked out of it and at the bustling city. the glass is frosted and wet from the pitter pattering rain that seems to persist in the cool weather of october. it's a little messy, books scattered about here and there and takeout bags littering the table, and the amount of lighting in this room seems to be as minimal (and as cold) as can be, but it's nothing too bad at all. nothing that you could complain about, at least.

there's so many things inside his house, so many things your eyes are drawn to, like his big bookcase and comfy bed and his expensive computer setup, and yet it feels so... lonely. devoid of life, even. maybe it's the look of the gloomy black walls and the fact that the only lighting xiao has is a tall floor lamp and the light that comes through his window, but you've never seen such a full home feel so empty. no plants except for one little succulent that's looking worse for wear, no photos of friends or family, no bright colors, no pets to breathe life into the place, no companion to help make this house a home. nothing.

you're suddenly grateful you have such a lively roommate.

it's been a few minutes since xiao had let you in, greeting you in his comfy hoodie and baggy pants, hair put up into a messy bun, before attending to something on his computer (an important email you think, or at least something along those likes, something urgent), telling you to sit wherever you'd like and that he'll be with you shortly. you had nodded while leaving your shoes at the door, asking him if his bed would be a seat he's okay with you being on, garnering a hum in response from him.

"...I'll sit here then, since it'll be close to you and stuff," you murmur, admittedly a bit more nervous and unconfident sounding than you'd like. you plop yourself onto xiao's bed, placing your bag at your feet in front of the bed for easy access. xiao takes what's meant to be a quick glance at you, but he's unable to look away.

he knows it's creepy to say, especially when you're just sitting down so innocently, but the sight is better than what he's fantasized about. he's thought of you so many times in his bed, cuddling with him and running your hands through his hair and letting him press kisses into your face and collar bones. he's thought about waking you up with breakfast and how you'd smile and thank him even if he can't cook very well, but he's willing to learn a couple recipes for you. he's thought about laying there with you after a long day, letting you ramble as he listened like he does as alatus. he's thought about how he'd great you once he comes home like you probably do with venti, watching your form as he wait on his bed for him.

and, most of all, he's thought about the way you'd cry and sob and call him a monster once the day that you find out that his bed is now yours and that this apartment is now your home, trapped forever with him, finally comes.

one day you'll be here permanently, he's sure of it. baby steps first, though.

xiao doesn't realize that in the midst of his thinking, he's been absolutely staring you down, and considering that xiao has a naturally viscous (bitchy) looking resting face, you can't help but squirm under his gaze. "xiao? I can... move, if you'd like."

"no, I just..." he clears his throat before looking back at the work in front of him. "sorry, I zoned out for a second. you can stay there if it feels comfortable. whatever you want." the words come out as a sort of awkward, almost inaudible mumble.

is this supposed to be as awkward and tense feeling as it is?

you nod at his words, albeit a little hesitant, further settling into the soft plush of his bed. your brain is still convinced that he might want you to move, but you decide to just stay where you are. you reach down from your seat, pulling out everything you would need from your bag, waiting patiently for any instructions. the soft clicking of xiao's keyboard and the sound of rain hitting against the window fill the otherwise silent room, and honestly, given the atmosphere and the way xiao's room is so dark and cozy and how warm and inviting his bed is, you're tempted to fall asleep.

xiao's presence, though nerve-wracking, makes you feel at home. it feels familiar. you wouldn't mind falling asleep near him again.

but today's (sadly) not the day for resting. xiao finishes whatever he's working on, closing out of the tab and turning his chair to face your spot on the bed. he brushes a piece of his hair back and out of the way, uncovering the eyebrow piercing the bothersome piece had previously hid. his eyes look dead, tired dark circles laying underneath, and yet he still forces himself to speak, like a zombie who simply refuses to just give up and die.

"did you have anything specific in mind that you want to go over?"

you take a second to think, humming in response. zhongli never truly specified what you needed to brush up upon, only that the last few assignments weren't up to his standards, whatever that means. "I don't know. maybe everything from the last few weeks? I'm not so sure."

he too lets out a soft little hum as he thinks for a moment. he's never tutored before, and he's pretty sure he doesn't even have the qualifications to actually be of any sort of help. he makes it up as he goes.

“on the back of your textbook, there's a study guide that covers all the chapters inside." he gently motions for you to give him the book sitting on your lap, flipping to the page before handing it back to you. "I want you to do the questions of the study guide that cover the chapters we've already read in class. then I'll... assess you from there, and we can come up with a plan.”

it seems like a lot of work, and that's because it is. the longer you spend here (the more he can milk this session for everything it's worth), the better.

you nod, moving to get to work immediately, putting your full effort into the task at hand. you both work silently, xiao clicking at his keys alongside the noise of you flipping through the pages of your textbook and jotting answers down. the noises compliment one another well, creating a lingering sense of peace and calm in the air. you find yourself getting stuck on one or two of the questions, but… surprisingly breezing through the rest, and after a while of working, you gently speak his name, alerting him that you've finished. he’s quick to take your work, starting his inspection of it.

your hands can’t help but get a little clammy as you watch as he reads through your answers, analyzing each and every single written word. in the meantime, you’re doing a little analysis of your own, trying to distract your mind from feeling any more nervous than you realistically should.

your eyes flick from his messy hair, to the beauty mark almost right in the middle of his forehead, then to the soft dusting of red eyeshadow under his eyes. you look at how he runs a finger against the words on the page, too, almost subconsciously, and though you can’t really tell from this angle what he’s doing, you think he’s more so tracing the letters you’ve written than using it as a means to follow along. he almost looks entranced. you don’t know what to expect from xiao, can’t even guess what he’s thinking, and the furrowed eyebrows on his face definitely don’t make you feel any better.

you sit there, idley, awkwardly, fidgeting for what seemed like more than just a few minutes, before xiao finally speaks up.

you can barely hear him as he speaks, his words hushed and muffled. "you... need a lot of brushing up on the content, and your answers… lack good explanations and reasoning." he hands you back your work, sending you an almost sympathetic look. "I can see why zhongli believes you need help,” he adds.

it's a lie, of course, but you don't need to know that, not when zhongli had so delicately laid down the groundwork for all of this to happen in the first place. most of your answers were just fine as is, at least from what he lightly skimmed through.

still, he can't help but feel guilty when that look of embarrassment washes over your face.

for some reason you feel yourself get overwhelmed with emotion. you thought that maybe, just maybe, zhongli was simply just messing with you, as was notorious with the man and his teaching methods. but there's a stark sense of embarrassment that comes from xiao reaffirming what zhongli had said, an embarrassment so strong it sends your entire body ablaze with heat.

you can't help but awkwardly shift in your seat as you nod along to his words despite the way your head almost feels too heavy to lift, avoiding eye contact lest he sees you so embarrassed over something so... silly, a miniscule problem at best, something fixable with a bit of elbow grease and time, and yet it means way more than it should to you.

you've worked so hard in this class already. why aren't you improving?

he doesn’t let you really catch your breath before he speaks again. "I think we'll need a couple more sessions than we discussed earlier," he mumbles, again, as though too ashamed to speak up, flipping through his own textbook, face in his hand as he thinks. "I want to make sure we can get as much content covered as possible before the end of the semester and catch you back up, since you seem to be..." xiao takes a quick glance at you, and for a moment, just a split second, he sees you, sees inside of you, sees every little thing you've been keeping bottled up, your fear. he looks away, breath hitching out of complete and utter guilt. he forces himself to continue though.

"...behind," he finishes, the single word said notably softer than the rest of the sentence.

xiao forces himself to swallow down his guilt. truly, he feels terrible about lying about this, because you clearly seem to be doing just fine on you own and lord knows how much stress this entire ordeal is causing you, but what's the use of being presented and blessed by the gods themselves with such an amazing opportunity if his sinning hands can't take it out of greed? xiao hates it, but he's always been more of a taker than a giver, taking all he can from people and leaving nothing left of them.

the simple pure utter bliss at the thought of spending hours and hours with you, in his room, alone, intimately and in person instead of just being with you through a phone screen, extinguishes any guilt he could possibly feel.

you, on the other hand, do allow yourself to feel guilt, though it's a feeling that has much more innocent roots than what xiao feels. it's a feeling that pokes and stabs at you as you fumble for words to say. you're a much better person than xiao is in that regard. you can't help but to feel ashamed, ashamed that you were doing so terrible at a course that goes directly into your major that you would have to force xiaoー a man renowned for being a lonerー who surely would rather spend his free time by himself and not tutoring someone so out of your realm and element as you are.

maybe it's not too late after all to consider switching majors, you think.

"you seriously don't have to do that, I don't want to take more time from you than I'm already taking. honestly, I think I'm a bit of a lost cause at this point if I can't even do the simpler questions."

the truth is, not even xiao knows how scared you are. fear and dread soars through your body at the thought of ending up in the same spot you were in last year.

xiao lets out a sigh through his nose at your words, a noise that does nothing other than make you feel worse, especially when you can't read his emotions and tell what's going on in that labyrinth of a brain he has. maybe he's realized that you're not worth spending his time. maybe you really are a loss cause. maybe you really should change your major. maybe you should call it quits and drop out. maybe you should move countries, marry a rich doctor or a lawyer and spend the rest of your days as a glorified housespー

xiao doesn't let you finish your thoughts (plans), instead getting up from his chair slowly. "let's take a break." he says, and while you feel a break is a little undeserved after you haven't done much studying, you nod, thinking it might be best to just relax before jumping back into things. "taking things slowly is the better way to do things," you nod, although the words just barely register themselves in your head. you're surprisingly vulnerable with him.

"I'm... going to step out for a moment to get some air. I'll give you some time for yourself to think." you nod, giving him a small and meek thank you, genuinely so utterly grateful for all the time xiao has given you. you can't help yourself from bothering him just once more before he leaves, though.

"xiao?" you don't look up at him, eyes fixated on your answers and what must've been so wrong with them. you hear him hum, beckoning you to continue.

“do you think I'll be able to pass?”

"of course you will," he answers, and it's the first truth he's said all day.

"of course," he mumbles, this time lower, a reminder to himself of how you'd be completely fine on your own, and that he should never, ever take this opportunity for granted.

he makes a promise to himself that he won't.

----- NEW TEXT MESSAGE -----☆

zhongli: hello, [name]. xiao informed me earlier today that you two will be conducting your first study session today. I'm glad you spoke to him about tutoring like I had advised you to. how are things going?

[name]: it's going fine, he mostly just reaffirmed what you already told me though. but he's been really kind about it all, I'm grateful that he agreed to help me out.

zhongli: I see. I hope that he could give you a new perspective on things and aid you in your weak spots. xiao is an amazing student in his own right, and I'm sure that together, you two will make an amazing team. I'm glad you two are getting along.

zhongli: I'd like to give you a little heads up for a future assignment, but there will be a project upcoming where I'll be sure to partner you two up. I'm sure you two will impress me on what you come up with.

zhongli: I believe in you, [name], and I expect good things coming forward.

zhongli: I'm sure that xiao is grateful as well.

[name]: thank you.

[name]: I hope to meet your standards as best as I can.

-----☆

the apartment is even quieter than it was before without xiao.

it's lonely, too.

in a way, you used this little moment to yourself as a justification and way to figure out just what exactly is the enigma that is xiao. now that you're by yourself, you find yourself looking around at his walls, glancing over at one of the two of his cork boards that seems to have a bunch of what looks to be memorabilia of all sorts, stuff like old music concert tickets of local bands you've never heard of, polaroids with some familiar places and even some of his friends, post-it note scribbles of different tasks he has to get done, among other things.

you visualize yourself looking at the corkboard as though it's those ones in those crime movies, where you're using red yarn to connect the pieces of a story together, figuring out with all the clues you have at your disposal who xiao is.

there's other things, too. posters lining the wall and a singular cat shaped plushie on his bed, a wilted bouquet of flowers in a vase on his kitchen countertop meant for decoration, various little knick knacks on his desk, but the part of his room that catches your eye most, though, is his large, expansive bookshelf filled (a little messily) with a variety of different things, almost all of it stuff you actually recognize.

you’re halfway through looking around before you hear the door open back up again. you instinctually freeze, as of you’re a kid who’s been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. you shift your head, locking eyes with him as he steps back inside. to your surprise, he doesn’t look upset, not even annoyed, just intrigued as he watches you awkwardly shuffle away a little from the bookshelves.

you try to apologize with hast. “sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I swear, I was just–��

xiaos quick to interject as he walks right past you over to sit, this time on his bed instead of at his desk. “it’s fine. I don’t mind. you don’t have to apologize.” he crosses his arms once he’s situated in his seat. “do whatever you’d like.” he adds in an attempt to comfort you.

it sounds sarcastic, but you somehow can tell that it’s not. you nod, taking it as (hoping that it’s) permission to keep going. your eyes move over to the other corkboard near the bookshelves, hoping that you’re not stepping over any boundaries by doing so. this board is filled more with many different photos pinned up onto it. there’s all sorts of sites and places, things like concerts or shops or restaurants or nature– the list goes on– with a rare one or two photos with him actually in it. even rarer seemed to be other people that didn’t look like strangers in the background.

you subconsciously speak a thought aloud. “you seem to go out a lot. to really cool places, too.”

the only thing he really says in response is, “all of those aren’t recent.”

you hum in response, eyebrows furrowing a little as you nod in understanding. “oh, I see.” xiao takes it as an opportunity to ask you something even though he knows the answer already. “what about you? do you go out a lot?”

the question takes you a little aback. “I haven’t gotten out a lot recently either.” you try to think about all you’ve done recently, before realizing there’s nothing much to think about at all. you add, in truth, “…you’re honestly the first person I’ve spent time with in a while that wasn’t my roommate, but I don’t think that really counts.”

he cocks his head to the side at that answer, golden eyes staring at you (almost straight through your soul), intrigued. “why haven’t you spent time with anyone else?

a soft pang hits your heart as you think about the reason. the breakup. despite how much time has gone by, you’re still tender about the topic, and would rather not think about everything it’s caused as a result. would rather not think about him, either.

you let out a nervous laugh. “that’s a long story, I guess.”

xiao seems dissatisfied with that answer. he’s never responded so quickly, without hesitating before.

“I have time.”

you send a look of slight confusion his way. “I thought we were going to study some more today?”

“right…” xiao let’s a lot of dead air slip in whenever he speaks, pausing and hanging onto words as if he’s doing mental calculations to figure out what the right thing to say next. “…in the future, then.”

you nod as your eye continues it’s adventure through the board before another photo catches your attention fully. it’s a pretty photo of a bunch of people standing near the docks, holding up and letting go of lanterns. it looks like, judging from the date scribbled on the bottom of the photo and the contents of the photo itself, the annual lantern rite from a few years back. you remember that day, almost vividly, too. that was your first year at the school. you and venti had gone together that year. it was magical. it seems like xiao really was never too far from you. seriously, you’re surprised you two haven’t talked sooner.

you can’t help but smile as you reminisce on that day. “I remember this exact lantern rite. there was so many people, and the lanterns were so beautiful. they always are.”

you turn around to face him, again. “how long has it been since you’ve gone to the harbor? if I lived as close as you do, I think I’d go to the harbor whenever I have time.”

it takes awhile for xiao to respond, not because he’s thinking of an answer, but because he’s transfixed on your expression right now. you seem so happy that it naturally just pulls on his heart strings. he’s glad you still remember that particular lantern rite, even though he knows you’ve gone to more since then. xiao remembers that day visibly too, but probably (definitely) not for the same you do. he wonders if you remember that part of it deep inside.

“um… since the day of that photo, probably.”

you’re a little taken aback from that answer. xiao lives on the outskirts of the harbor. how could he have not gone back in years? everything you learn about xiao makes you more and more curious as to who he is. “really?” you can’t help but ask. he can’t help but shrug.

you speak without even thinking twice once more. “would you want to go again sometime then?” your eyes dart away from his face. you can’t help but look away before you finish the question, unable to look him in the eye as you clarify, “with me, I mean.” you stumble out the words more confidently than you exprcted.

he lets out a sigh. “there’s nothing I want from there…” it’s the truth. he hasn’t been very fond of the harbor for what has felt like centuries, especially not the memories he’s tethered to. he can’t help but to regret the accidental roughness of his words, though, when he looks up to see a flash of embarrassment paint across your face. it feels like he picked the wrong answer, but he wants to say the right one, desperately. xiao has never been great at talking, but he’s trying, for you. “but if you’d like… I’d like to go with you.”

you try to hide the way your heart picks up the pace a little at his words. “let’s go soon, then. I can tell you about myself, and you can tell me about you, too.”

he nods, and for a split second you think you’ve gone insane, because you swear, swear, that for a few seconds, the corner of xiao’s lips curve softly into a smile. a smile! smiling at the thought of you two ‘hanging out’ in the future! for all the times you’ve seen xiao, you can maybe only count on one hand how many times you’ve seen him smile.

“you want to learn about me?” he asks, earnestly, shocked, and it definitely wasn’t a question you were expecting.

“yeah, I mean I've always seen you around. I think we've even been in the same classes before this year, too, and now I’m getting tutored by you and I still know pretty much nothing about you.” you pause before adding on, “I’d love to learn more. I hope that’s not weird, or anything.”

he shakes his head, the ghost of a smile still etched onto his lips. and if you looked closely (which luckily for him, you weren’t), you’d see the faint dust of blush decorating his cheeks, too. “I don’t have much to tell you, but… that sounds good.”

he feels embarrassed at the fact he can’t control how warm his cheeks feel and how he can’t help but crack a smile at you. he clears his throat, trying to reset himself, suddenly ready to move on, going back to his desk.

“let’s keep working, I want to make the most out of the time we have together.” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks. you mentally brace yourself for another study session with him.

it’s gonna be a long night.

ーーー NEW MESSAGE ーーー ☆

ven: where have you been?

ven: haven’t seen you all day……….. ):

ven: my flower, the house is so empty without you……….. ))):

ven: are you with somebody? you never tell me these things anymore.

ven: talk to me soon, please.

ーーー ☆

it's late into the night when you're awakened rudely with a few desperate knocks against your bedroom door.

you can't help but groan as you stir awake, upset to be forced out of your dream state, although that irritation is soon replaced with guilt once you realize just why you were being awakened with such urgency in the first place. after whining out a loud, 'come in,' you peak your eyes open to see your best friend standing in your doorway, tears staining his face so much that they're visible even in the darkness.

shit. it's been so long since you've seen venti like this. you thought all of that was over ages ago.

"can I sleep with you tonight?" his voice is shakey yet gentle, filled with fear and something that you can only label as... need, as if he needs you more than he ever has. just his voice alone, paired with the way he looks so in the doorway while he's shivering and fiddling with his pajamas, hair looking almost as distraught as he's feeling, is enough to have you too stunned to speak.

"please?" he adds on when you don't reply immediately.

you nod, scooting over to make room for him as he slowly trudges to your bed like he's done many times before. he's quick to settle in under the covers with you, laying against the plush pillow underneath him. you move closer to him as though it's instinct, an action done out of retained muscle memory from the many nights you've spent doing this exact thing. your eyes, though half lidded and heavy, trace over his face over and over again, noting how his eyes look back at you and you can't help but think that venti is such an expressive person. even if he's so silent right now, his eyes are cloudy and storming, speaking a thousand words with the thunder that rings out within them.

he looks like he's trying to think of what to say, but he doesn't need to say a single thing. you already know why he's here.

his face is contorted in a way that almost showcases utter agony, and it hurts, hurts to see your best friend suffering, especially when the best you can do is guide your hand softly against the smooth the skin of his cheek and brushing away any tears in pity. if nothing else, you truly do hope that, at the very least, your presence can help.

“do you maybe want to talk about it?” you run your hand through his soft, pretty dyed blue locks that seem to almost glow in the moonlight, feeling the light moisture of his skin from his sweat. you’ve forgotten just how easy it always has been to brush your hand through his locks. your voice is gentle and low as if not to startle him, as if not to shatter him more than he already is. “you know you don’t have to, but you can always talk to me if you need to.”

“no, it’s okay... I just want to be with you right now.” his voice is meek as he chooses his words carefully as though they're meticulously chosen to pull at your heartstrings (they do), and he sounds like he’s on the brink of tears once more.

“is it the same dream as before?” you ask, remembering how many nights you've spent with venti just like this when he began getting frequent ‘nightmares’ awhile back, nightmares that till this day you don't know the contents of.

he nods, although hesitantly, as though it’s some sort of secret. and in a way, it is.

he could never, ever, ever tell you that you’re the cause of all of his nightmares after all.

“are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? you look really upset. you've never told me what makes you like this.”

“no, I just want to… I just want to stay like this for a while.”

“okay, ven,” you whisper, soft and quiet, as if your voice could shatter him whole. you pause, thinking of what to say, before you decide that you won’t prode any further, instead bidding him a goodnight. “I love you, venti. get some rest.”

for the first time in maybe months, venti doesn’t tell you he loves you back.

instead he burrows himself as deep as humanly possible, as if being torn away from you would kill him, just like the way his dreams pulled and tugged ruthlessly at his heart strings, shoving images of you with your new 'tutor' down his throat, like they had with him months and months ago.

how cruel is it that he's forced to see you being ripped away from him both in real life and in his dreams?

-----☆

you're half asleep when you feel him mumble into your skin.

"I miss you. I miss this." he whispers, but you can barely hear him. he misses the way you feel, how comforting you smell, how his hands connect with your body like they're puzzle pieces. he misses having all your attention on him like this, so quick to coo and ask if he's okay. everything’s changed from how it used to be.

"what?"

you feel venti's hands slip under your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your back as he slowly trails his hands up and down, basking in the way that you feel. "I miss you, cecilia. especially today." his voice isn't shakey anymore. instead it's much more fluid, as though he never had the night terrors that brought him into your room to begin with. you can't help but frown at his words even in your sleepy state.

"venti..." you mumble out, feeling his hands start to dig themselves into your skin. his grip on your waist is tightー not enough for it to hurt, but just enough that it keeps you from pushing him away if you really wanted to, trapping and suffocating you, bordering the lines of sucking the air out of your lungs.

part of you wishes he wouldn't keep things so bottled up from you, because clearly, your constant 'absence' in his life is hurting him more than you'll ever be able to understand, but the more selfish part of you is shamefully grateful that he is. you love venti, but for a man who constantly champions for freedom, he's always been so dead set on taking away yours.

you know deep down that if you gave venti an inch, he'd take a mile, and you don't have many miles left to give. you could spend twenty-four hours of a day with venti and he would still want you to somehow spend twenty-five on him. as much as you love ventiー truly, you love him more than anything else in the worldー, you know it'd be better if you didn't indulge him as much as you want him to. lord knows how quick venti would be to turn you into a hollow, empty shell of yourself by taking every second you have all for himself if he could.

besides, this whole thing will blow over eventually after the party, right?

right?

"I know that I've already whined and complained about it, but god, I miss you. you were gone for so long today with someone I don't even know… seeing you occasionally here and there isn't enough for me. I..." venti somehow manages to pull his body even closer to you, your chest and his chest plush against each other, so close that you can feel the way it rises as he breathes slowly. "I know I'm selfish, but I need you."

he says the word 'need' as if he'd die without you.

you don't think this is a conversation you two should be having when you're so... out of it, exhausted.

"venti, can we talk about this in the morning?"

his grip slowly loosens. "...okay." he says the word slowly and hesitantly, as if he's a child saying a cuss word for the first time, as if agreeing to put his feelings aside until you're in a much more lucid and conscious state is a sin. "I'm... I'm sorry for bothering you and being so clingy and... I just..." venti swallows thickly. "goodnight," venti mumbles, choosing not to finish his thought.

your eyebrows furrow, something about this whole conversation feeling off to you. never in a million years would venti have been so... upfront, apart from the day he invited you to the party. it's like venti's slowly unraveling like a string, just one little tug away from snapping.

it wouldn't be the first time venti's snapped on you though. you need to mend things and shut off the ticking time bomb before things blow up in your face again, like when you...

like when you...

ugh. you'll think about all of this later when you're actually well-rested and capable of forming cohesive thoughts. you softly mumble out a goodnight to venti as well, praying that the storm will blow off soon enough.

it doesn't, though. the winds only get stronger and louder.

ーーー☆

venti wasn't in your room by the time you woke up. infact, he wasn't in the apartment at all. not in his room, not in the kitchen or in the bathroom getting ready, nowhere. he didn't even leave a text telling you where he went.

you guess that venti needs time to think after last night, and you decide that it's probably for the best.

you'll see him again later anyways.

ーーー☆

it's cold out today, october's chill punishing you for wearing too light of a sweater for the weather, but the freezing temperature of the classroom during today's lecture isn't the cause of the way you squirm in your seat out of discomfort. no, you have professor zhongli to take credit for that.

you're convinced that zhongli gets a kick out of giving you borderline heart attacks.

honestly, that isn't exactly far from the truth. there's something about the way your eyes flicker in complete, utter fear just by him saying, "[name], may you please see me after class? there's something I'd like to discuss with you," that sends shivers down his spine, as egregious as that may sound. it's a shameful feeling for a professor to have, but at least he has much more innocent intentions this time as opposed to the last time he's asked you to stay behind.

the request was given to you right at the start of class (which you were actually on time to, thank god) before he began with his lecture. and once again, you couldn't help but think about just what exactly zhongli wanted to discuss with you throughout the entire lecture, almost too busy coming up with theories to focus. all you can think is, did you do something wrong again? was the assignment you turned in last night bad? all that studying you did with xiao couldn’t have been for nothing, right? you're going to fail the semester at this rate.

you wish zhongli was more dead set on helping you pass like last year than assuring that you failed.

you can’t help but call back to that time. you had been much worse off back then. you were visibly behind everyone else, but it hadn't started that way. so much was happening back then. and that breakup, oh that fucking break up, really made focusing on your school work beyond difficult. you truly did put up a fight, tried to make sure you stayed afloat, and it did work at first. but your responsibilities drowned you completely, and you never really learned how to swim.

it was a rough semester, and one of your classes had been taught by the very same man taking great pleasure in ruining you today. your one saving grace? once again, the very same man, who had seemed to take enough pity onto you that he took matters into his own hands to make sure you did well.

you stood out back then, not because you shone bright, but because you didn't shine at all.

zhongli wanted to light that fire back in you that you had at the start of the year. and he had.

zhongli had took you under his wing, struck you with passion and drive, made you fall in love all over again with the topic you were studying through his ramblings and stories and sheer utter knowledge; he revitalized you, filled a hole. he had kept you after class and in his office on weekends, making time to make sure that you succeeded and through his gentle nurturing that was the hot to his own cold. you had succeeded, to your surprise. and he had looked after you ever since.

it was silly for you to believe that he would grace you with the same mercy this course.

but things are different now. so much more different. you were grateful back then for him striving to push you to do better, but now it's overwhelming. back then, his standards were achievableー finish your assignments on time as often as you could, study a little when you can, at least attempt to attend every class you had. it was doable. but now, now you're almost convinced he wants you to become borderline perfectー no, perfect is an understatement. he wants you to be better than perfect.

perfect, and vulnerable.

back then it felt as though he was trying to help you but now, the back of your mind can't help but tell you that he's always been helping himself, benefiting himself, not you.

it was at the start of this school year that you let yourself fall right into the dragon's lair.

either way, maybe it's the fact that your mind was so occupied, or maybe time simply just decided to speed up, but the class flew by in no time. you had practically tuned out all of zhongli's ramblings and teachings today. you watched zhongli dismiss the class, staying seated despite the way everyone else shuffled out of the door as quickly as possible. once again, it was just you and zhongli in the empty room.

fuck.

zhongli walks to the front of your desk, running a hand through his hair before letting out a long sigh, and you never knew how such a little harmless action could strike so much fear into your heart. could you just combust already? you're not at all ready for whatever zhongli has to say.

"what a long class we had today, hm? I hope I didn't bore you too much. you looked particularly distracted." zhongli says, smiling gently at you as he attempts to brighten the gloomy mood you're clearly in. "luckily, though, I've been excited to talk to you all class. you truly were my saving grace today."

is this some kind of sick joke? you were kidding when you thought zhongli must get pleasure out of your failure, but you might actually be right.

gross.

"don't worry, though, I didn't keep you after class just to complain. I'll get to the point, since I know you hate pointless chatter."

"I know it's far too early to say this, but I'm proud of you, [name]."

that caring nature still shines through, the strict professor he's supposed to be eroded and washed away by time itself.

your eyebrows furrow. "what?" you can’t help but let the word slip out of your mouth in the midst of your confusion.

"the assignment you gave in last night, truly one of your best works this semester. you never fail to amaze me with how fast you manage to make a turnaround when you put your mind to it, [name]."

the assignment? the one you worked on last night at the last second despite having over a week to do it after studying with xiao that you had to keep your eyes pried open to complete? the one xiao had borderline picked apart a dozen times as though trying to break you down even more? that assignment?

what?

"but I... what? if it was any good, it's likely only because xiao was there to help me." you mumble, unsure of your words.

"so? are you really diminishing your accomplishments just because you got a little aid?" zhongli plants a hand on your cheek like he has a dozen times in the past before guiding your face to look up at him. "or are you trying to say that it was xiao who had done your assignment, not you?"

"o-of course he didn't, but-" zhongli is quick to shush you, pressing a gloved thumb against your lips with a soft smile.

"shh. you did well, and that's final. I hope this pattern continues. you know I want nothing but the best for you after seeing what you can achieve." his gloved hand caresses your cheek and you're convinced he can feel the heat your face is producing out of embarrassment even through the layer of fabric. "my little star, you're doing well again." he adds quietly, so quietly that you can just barely make it out, though the nickname is far less shocking than the praise that your brain is still trying to make sense of.

"before I let you go, I just wanted to reiterate that should you ever need my assistance with anythingー and I mean anything at all, whether it's related to your academics or notー know that I am and always will be here."

"I... thank you." it's the only words you can come up with as zhongli leaves you alone with your thoughts. "thank you," you repeat, speaking the words much more quietly. in a hushed whisper.

in the back of your mind, you realize that you should be thinking about how odd it is for zhongli to suddenly be so sugary sweet, how he's touched you so much more intimately than a professor should, how his little nickname for you is weird at best, and yet all you can think about is how he's proud of you.

for some reason, that's all that really matters to you in the moment. you can think about... all that other stuff, later.

ーーー☆

it's almost pitch dark out by the time you finally get home.

"I'm home!" you shout out as soon as you step through the front door, voice a little breathy after having to climb up a few flights of stairs to get up to your apartment, alerting venti that you've arrived in a way akin to how married couples do. you're quick to lock the door behind you, stripping yourself of your shoes that feel more like weights before placing them in the shoe rack near the door and putting your heavy bag down next to venti's violin case, deciding you'll bother with getting whatever you need out of there when you feel like it. you wince a little at the cold tiles of the floor underneath your feet.

maybe one day you'll move into a place with an actual heater, you think.

"I'll be there in just a second!" venti's voice rings out from what you assume is the bathroom down the hall, likely showering given the pitter-pattering sound of running water. you nod, as though responding to him despite the fact he can't see you, flicking on the light switch to the kitchen as you do so. the kitchen table immediately grabs your attention with how different it looks compared to how you left it this morning. two orange pumpkins sit at the center, and alongside it lays an unopened package of carving tools and another package of tea lights, a brown bag filled with what looks to be some house decor and knick knacks (venti truly does love trying to make your run-down apartment as much of a true home as possible), and a bag of groceries yet to be put away.

you sit down at the medium sized wooden table, allowing yourself to rest and bask in the day as you look through everything infront of you. it's been awhile since you've just sat in silence and thought, and even longer since you let yourself really live in this home without just heading straight to your room. your nails drill against the table, pushing one of the two pumpkins closer to you with a soft hum. you trace a finger against it, imaginging what'd you want to carve on it and how it'd glow after you put a candle inside.

this year you should do something new, get a little more fancier with the design that you have in the previous years that you craved a pumpkin. maybe you and venti will carve matching jack-o-laterns this year. you can't help but smile at the thought.

"they're cute, aren't they?"

you tense up when you feel a hand on your shoulder, but you instantly relax when you turn your head to see venti. you guess you were so lost in thought you hadn't heard him come out of the bathroom. you drink in his presence, giving him a glance over out of instinct. the smell of his apple-cinnamon bodywash assault your senses in an oddly comforting way, a scent that makes you feel right at home. he's in a pair pajamas and cute bunny slippers, and his hair is clipped up in a pretty half up, half down ponytail. the blue dyed tips of his hair are losing their signature color (which is odd, considering that despite his inherit laziness, venti's always been one to make sure those tips stay bright blue at all costs) and his skin looks a little damp.

a gummy smile paints his face, and he has a bit of a playful glint in his eye, but he looks notably tired, and a sense of worry pings at your heart at the sight. you were the roommate notorious for having bags under your eyes afterall, not him, so to see him look so exhausted, especially when venti's always been one for getting his 'beauty sleep,' tells you that venti internally isn't feeling his best. it sounds shallow, judging someone's mental health based on their appearance, but you know venti like the back of your hand, and you know that something's wrong.

even moreso, you know exactly what that wrong thing is, given last night's conversation.

"I got them at the grocery store today. thought it might be fun to carve them together before they go bad. that is, if you want to grace me with your undivided time and attention, of course." venti pretends he's joking, but you know deep down he means the sentiment of wanting you to give him your time for once, and you honestly feel awful at his words. nonetheless, you suck it up, smiling up at him. it's a genuine smile.

"why wouldn't I? it is tradition after all. I'm going to make mine extra scary this year."

venti laughs at your words, his heart internally flutter at the thought of how determined your face would look as you try to create the spookiest jack-o-latern he's ever seen. he leans down, pressing a soft, platonic peck to your forehead, finally giving you a welcome home.

"you're home later than usual again, everything go okay?"

you can't help but notice that venti is acting as if he had never said what he said last night, though the air between you is still awkward and tense, and his face does little to hide the fact that deep down, he's still quelling on the things he spoke about. nonetheless, you decide that that conversation is to be had when venti wants it to happen, knowing full well from years of being his best friend that venti prefers keeping a lighter mood at all costs, so you leave things at that until he's ready to speak about it again.

"yeah, I just thought that I'd try to get some work done while I could at campus," you answer, watching as he nods slowly at your words. you can tell he's fighting back the urge to interrogate you, to ask you if you were with anybody and if you really needed to stay at campus, and anything else he can use as a way to rationalize the fact that he's so clingy. he looks around the room, thinking about what else he could say to make sure the conversation doesn't end prematurely.

"oh! I ordered some takeout a bit before you came home. it's still hot, if you want to eat."

you nod, thanking him, and you can tell he's trying to read you, to figure out just how exactly he can stay with you longer without him bringing up anything you two talked about last night. he stands there, presence lingering as though he has something to say, and yet he chooses not to say whatever's on his mind, instead preferring to pick up the unopened bottle of dandelion wine on the nearby kitchen counter.

"you seem all set. I'll get going now, then. I have an urgent date with a bottle of wine that I can't miss for the world." venti moves quickly to leave as though trying to make sure you don't see through to him, turning his back to you without another word, but he doesn't get too far before he's freezing up at your words.

"you're not gonna stay and chat?" you say instinctively, a little surprised by the fact he was so quick to come and go today. you don't know what it is about today, but the thought of venti forcing himself to go when he clearly doesn't want to pains you. maybe it was last night's conversation, or maybe it's how venti radiates warmth that fights against the biting cold that nips at your skin, or maybe you just miss venti, but you want him here with you.

venti turns around slowly, his voice low as he speaks. "oh..." he starts off, "I thought you would've wanted to eat alone like all the other nights," you almost let out a wince at his words. how long has it really been since you last simply hung out with venti? "do you... want me to stay?" you let out a gentle hum.

"I want you here tonight. I want to talk to you."

"about what?"

you think about everything you'd want to tell venti, and you realize that that's exactly it; you want to tell him everything and anything you can. you want to tell him about your new tutor who turned out to be a lot less scary than you were expecting him to be, or that new coffee shop a friend had told you about that opened up near by that you'd love to tell him about, or how zhongli was actually kind to you today. but you also want venti to tell you everything too, about any escapades he's had recently while drunk or new songs he's written, or even how his classes are going and if he's thinking of going to any other parties soon.

you realize that, as much as you'd hate to admit it to yourself, you miss just being with venti a lot too.

"everything," you finally reply after thinking, grinning up at his hesitant form.

"everything? really? this isn't a ploy to tell me horrific news or to try to get out of going to that party, is it?"

"no, I promise. I'm honestly a bit offended you'd think I'd ever be so cruel as to try to get out of going to such an amazing party," you joke.

venti playfully rolls his eyes at your words, but he can't help the smile that creeps up his face. his smile is bright like a star, warm enough for a planet to survive off of, eyelids crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he puts the bottle in his hand down befofe he pulls up one of the kitchen chairs, the legs screeching against the floor so that he's sitting infront of you. he leans in close to you as though you were about to tell him the greatest story known to man. you can't help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. venti's smile, his real and genuine smile, gives you a feeling like no other. it makes you feel whole, like none of your problems neither exist nor matter and that everything in this world is perfect.

"okay then, dove, tell me everything."

ーーー NEW TEXT MESSAGE ーーー☆

alatus: can you believe it's almost sunday already?

[name]: holy shit, time is going by so fast

[name]: I'm so excited to meet you in person

alatus: I'm excited too.

[name]: I can't believe I've known you for over a year and I'm only going to get to see your face now

[name]: I swear, if you're just some creep...

alatus: I promise I'm not.

alatus: well, maybe.

[name]: ha ha, very funny.

[name]: but seriously, it honestly feels like I've known you for forever.

alatus: maybe you have and you just never noticed

#tw stalking #tw age gap #tw possession #tw student teacher relationship #tw yandere #tw manipulation #yandere xiao x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere Genshin impact x reader

103 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 4 months

Text

a writing challenge? in 2024? you bet

Hi! Hello! Hey!

I've been going through A Time and have chosen to cope by going back to the specific vibes of 2016 to 2018. That happens to include an incredible resurgence in my love for MCU fanfic, the community around it and all the love that goes into them. I've felt a bit distant from here for a while, but I still see so many of my old friends writing, ones who want to get back into it, and a whole lot of new writers I am dying to meet.

I've floated this idea vaguely on my blog and people seem to be interested so I figured it was worth a shot!

So yeah, welcome to Ari's Old School, Nostalgia Jam, Why-The-Hell-Not MCU Fic Writing Challenge 2024!

Prompts, rules and whatnot under the cut:

Requests:

If you could reblog this post to reach someone who might want to participate, I'd really appreciate it! No need to be following me, it's open for anyone.

Reader-inserts, OCs, solo character fics, character x character-- absolutely no limitations

Any and all MCU characters are allowed

Anything above 500 words should have a read-more/keep-reading tab. Series, multi-chapters, one-shots, drabbles, etc etc. The sky's the limit.

Please tag me in your fics (@shurisneakers) so I'm notified of them, and post them with the tag #arisoldschoolwritingchallenge . It may take me a while to get back to you due to the circumstances I find myself in currently, but I absolutely will. Please send me a DM if I haven't responded within 10 days.

Send me an ask with the prompt you would like. Feel free to pick up to 2 prompts

The only thing I request of you: no RPF and no dark fics. Smut is welcome, but non-con/dub-con/incest or anything along those veins is something I'd ask you not to submit for this challenge. Thank you for your understanding!

I know I've called it an MCU fic challenge as it's the community I've grown with, but if you feel like any of these prompts resonates with a character from another fandom, please go ahead and write it. This challenge really is just about the fun of writing fanfic and love for Your Little Guys

No submission cut-off date. Take all the time you need.

Prompts

I've tried to have a mix of classics and uncommon tropes/dynamics, so I hope everyone finds something they connect with!

Relationship Prompts

1. Enemies (taken by @theysaywhatasadsight)

2. Best friends/childhood friends

3. Coworkers (taken by @jaaneymann)

4. Internet friends

5. Neighbours/roommates (taken by @angrythingstarlight)

6. Fake dating (taken by @hungryforpowernotfood)

7. Commuters

Alternate Universe Prompts

1. Florist AU (taken by @hungryforpowernotfood)

2. Showmance AU (taken by @bombsonboard)

3. Social media/streaming/gaming AU (taken by @splintered-emotions)

4. Thieves/Heist Group AU

5. Time travel AU

6. Pirates AU

7. College AU (taken by @lovelybarnes)

8. Apocalypses/dystopia AU (taken by @targaryenvampireslayer)

9. Chef AU

10. Roadtrips AU

Some rarer miscellaneous ones for those who are so inclined!

1. Shipwrecked together on an island

2. Meet Ugly (opposite of Meet Cutes) (taken by @barnesandco

3. Both of you are ghosts but don't know the other is

4. Treasure hunters AU

5. Faking death

6. Professional cuddlers AU

7. Time loops/Groundhog Day (taken by @sxrensxngwrites)

8. Orpheus and Eurydice

9. Villain x hero

10. Hitchhiking

11. Carnival of Horrors

12. Robin Hood

13. Matchmakers AU

14. Insomniac x narcoleptic

15. Intergalactic Coffee Shop AU

16. Doomed By The Narrative

17. Enemies to Lovers to Enemies

18. Subversion of Classic Hallmark Movie Tropes

Dialogue prompts

You can tweak them as per requirements, but be sure to keep the underlying message!

Angst

1. "I should have trusted myself. I should have stayed far away from you." (taken by @waywardcrow)

2. "Has it occurred to you that how I feel matters too?" (taken by @jaaneymann)

3. "We failed. I would do it again."

4. "You do not deserve my forgiveness."

5. "You make me feel so alone." (taken by @reidishh)

6. "I'm not giving up on us." "I did. You should too." (taken by @targaryenvampireslayer)

Crack

1. "Ohhh, you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid." (taken by @pinkthick)

2. "I think you and I make the worst choices together." "Yeah, but it's always entertaining."

3. "I trusted you." "Terrible decision, really."

4. "I know I'm smiling but I want to push you off a very big cliff." (taken by @pepperonijem)

5. "I'm hilarious." "You're traumatised."

Fluff

1. "This is the only thing I look forward to everyday." (Taken by @bombsonboard)

2. "I think we should do that again. For the sake of the world and my sanity."

3. "You're all I think about." (taken by @waywardcrow)

4. "Don't go anywhere I can't follow." (taken by @iguess-theyre-mymess)

5. "Don't smile at me like that." "Like what?" "Like that." (Taken by @lovelybarnes)

Word Prompts:

Flesh

Strawberry

Bruised (taken by @juvenilearson)

Groovy

Jump

Sunflower (taken by @barnesandco)

Alchemist

Wayward

Offerings

Mischief (taken by @supraveng)

I hope you'll join in! Please do tag anyone you think would be interested, I'd love for this to have as wide an audience as possible.

Lots of love <3

-Ari

88 notes · View notes

apalkenndream1 · 7 months

Text

I'll Follow You Into The Dark || !Tav/!Reader x Astarion

(The brain worms demand this be posted)

Tags: fluff, soft, full squad, end-game spoilers

Word Count: 3,664

With the Netherbrain defeated and everyone cured of the tadpoles, Astarion has to flee from the sun once again. You follow him, of course, so he doesn't have to face the darkness alone. You head to the Underdark to help the vampire spawns find their way in this new world. Watching Astarion help his brothers and sisters warms your heart, reminding you of their freedom and how far he has come. He was once a man who only knew to live one way: deceive others and fight his way through everything. Now, he accepts the role of being a hero and helps out his siblings when he could've left them behind. Of course, his personality stays the same, including his sass and silly jokes in every interaction with them.

The two of you have found a home to call your own, making it comfortable for the time you can spend alone. While there may not be any sun to bask in, you make it comfortable with lanterns and a fireplace to keep you both warm. However, it never seems like quite enough.

_____________________________________________________________

Lately, it seems Astarion has been less of himself, diving into readings and drawings instead of keeping up in conversation. Similar to humans having seasonal depression, it seems this vampire has a similar affliction. He has become a recluse, only coming alive when he's helping out the vampire spawns. You decide to bring it up to him, hoping to find a way to help him out.

"Hey," you say softly, hoping not to disturb him.

"Hello, beautiful." He smiles softly, finally looking away from his book.

"Whatcha drawin'?" You say casually, ensuring he doesn't know what's happening.

"My muse, darling. You." He uses his wicked grin, the one that always knocks the wind out of you. You softly giggle, eyeing his drawings of you.

His attention to detail, including your wrinkles around your mouth and by your eyes. He shades every detail exactly, capturing your essence in picture-perfect form. It's like you're looking into a grayscale mirror.

"Wow, you're incredibly talented. That looks incredible." You're taken aback by his abilities, speechless.

He blushes slightly, as much as a vampire can, "Oh, you're too kind. Now, what did you actually want to talk about?" He says, a little more sternly, as he can see you're holding back.

You sigh, let out a large breath, and look into his striking red eyes, "You seem a little...off. I'm worried about you, is everything okay?"

His eyes drop, and he sets down his book, looking at his hands, "I miss our adventures, our team, and the sun. A part of me wishes we had never gotten rid of those tadpoles. A part of me wishes it had never ended so that we could still be out exploring the world, exploring my home. I guess I didn't realize how much it affected me."

Your eyes well slightly; he has never been able to be this open to anyone before. You know how important it is to take this lightly, and you must comfort him. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and smile softly at him, "I miss it too, but we also got to save a lot of good people. I'd rather be down here, safe, with you than, ya know...growing tentacles and eating brains."

He laughs softly at you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. "I know you're right; it's just a hard thing to move past...Thank you for talking to me; I love you." He stands up, giving you a peck on the forehead, "I'm going to go gather some things for dinner; I'll be back shortly."

You both smile softly at each other and say, "I love you too." before he heads out. While it helped slightly, you can tell that he is still not 100% back to himself. Then, a lightbulb goes off, and you know exactly what you must do.

______________________________________________________________

You leave him a note so he knows you haven't disappeared forever:

Dearest Astarion,

I will be gone for a short while, but I will be back shortly. I've gone into the city, as someone needed some help retrieving an important item for them. Continue with dinner; this shouldn't take me long. I love you, see you soon.

Yours always,

(Y/N)

You gather some supplies for your trek back to Baldur's Gate, made simple by the Ancient Sigels, and get ready to assemble some people as well.

___________________________________________________________

Your first stop is the Sorcerous Sundries, assuming that's where he might be staking out. Since the end of Lorrokan, the tower has been home to Rolan, but he also wanted to learn more about the weave. What better person to do that with than Gale? He also took over the entire running of the Sundries, ensuring knowledge was accessible to all wizards. As you walk in, a familiar face lights up and runs to you with arms wide open.

As you embrace him, he laughs, "I wasn't sure you'd ever come out of the Underdark without your trusty lover!"

You chuckle, "It's good to see you too, Gale." You back up from him, looking him over in his newest and finest robes.

"You're on a mission, I see. What can I do for you?" Gale says, his voice more matter-of-fact.

You sigh, hoping he will understand what you're getting at, "Astarion hasn't been himself lately. He seems down like he needs a pick-me-up. I hoped to gather everyone to get together and see if that helps. Would you be willing to come to our home for a small party?"

Gale looks inquisitively at you like he's trying to read your mind. Then, he lets out a laugh as he grabs your shoulders, "Of course I'll come! Anything to help an old chum out of a rut. I'll also let Rolan and the tieflings know; it would be great for them to take a break!"

You smile, giving him a firm hug with a bit of a squeeze, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You don't know what else to do, as thanks would never be enough.

You head off to your next destination with a large smile on your face.

____________________________________________________________

One of the few places with a lot of greenery is where two of your Druid friends spend their time: Halsin and Jaheira. When you find them in Bloomridge Park, you see them and Arabella assisting other Druids to become one with nature. They are so focused on the task at hand that they almost don't see you walking up.

"Y/N!!" Arabella shrieks, running to give you a hug around your legs. You bend down to return the favor.

Halsin smiles in your direction, crossing his arm across his chest and smiling towards you. "It is great to see you, friend. It's been a while; glad to see you getting some sun."

"Welcome back," Jaheira says softly, giving you a nod.

"Hello to you all. It's great to see you helping out the younglings," You grin, wondering if you'll be asking too much of them. Taking them away from the younglings seems like a large ask, considering the kids are new to this side of nature. You start to second-guess yourself, wondering what aspects this might have against them.

"You are concerned; let us know what you are thinking," says Jaheira, a fellow look of concern on her face.

"I don't want to take you away from these children; it seems like a bad time to ask something of you." You kick the ground lightly, feeling nervous.

Halsin smiles, looking at you caringly, "Whatever you have to ask, I'm sure it is necessary."

You look up at them all; they have warming smiles on their faces, making you feel better. "Okay, well, Astarion has been feeling a little down lately. I was thinking of ways to make him feel better, so I thought about getting everyone together in the Underdark. It's a lot safer, and Astarion has been working with the vampire spawn to teach them how to take care of themselves properly. Only if you're able to; not a big deal if not." You realize you have rambled on to them and get nervous awaiting their answer.

"YES! Let's go, please, please, please!" Arabella shouts, vibrating with excitement.

Halsin and Jaheira laugh, holding onto her shoulders to try to calm her down. "Of course, we'll be there, Y/N. That is never too much to ask of us." Halsin exclaims, smiling to try to comfort you. Jaheira nods in agreement, a similar smile across her face.

You grab them in a group hug, feeling fulfillment all throughout your body. "Thank you. I appreciate this more than you will ever know." With a final squeeze, you allow them to get back to their hard work.

___________________________________________________________

Your idea is finally coming into fulfillment, adding a skip to your step as you head to Wyrm's Rock Fortress. There are quite a few people you can talk to here, but the chances of them being able to step away is very slim. The first stop is the barracks to chat with the two behind getting the military ready to protect the people. You walk in to see them hard at work, helping the beef up the crew.

"A'right, soldiers, take a moment to recoup before we get back into the training," Karlach states in a stern tone, one you've never heard.

"T'saik, I never rested in my training; you are too soft, Karlach," Lae'zal exclaimed, rolling her eyes at this obviously tense partnership. Karlach gives her a soft punch on the shoulder when she sees you out of the corner.

"No fucking way," she states, running towards you and tackle hugging you. Lae'zal sanders over with the slightest smile on her lips.

"Why are you here?" she asks, some confusion in her voice. It's only suitable; it's been a month since you've seen the surface.

You let out a sigh, feeling their confusion, happiness, and slight sadness. You've been so concerned with helping Astarion that you never thought about how it could affect the others.

"I'm sorry I've been gone so long and that I've come to ask a favor. I should've come and visited earlier; I apologize." You say sheepishly.

"Oh, soldier, don't worry about it. I'm sure you've been just as busy as us." Karlach states, flinging their arm around your shoulders. Lae'zal crosses her arms, looking into your eyes with dismay.

"I still came to visit." She seems a little more cranky than usual, probably since she's here helping people who aren't even Githyanki. Perhaps it's disappointment in her high expectations, or maybe she's worn out from defeating Vlaaketh and rebuilding her home.

"Lae'zal, ease up, will ya?" Karlach says, her eyes a little more piercing than usual. "What do ya need?" She smiles towards you, her arm still on your shoulders.

"I wanted to see if you could come and do a bit of a house party for Astarion. He's been feeling quite depressed since we went to the Underdark, and I think it would cheer him up." You try to sound enthusiastic, but it comes out a bit more pleading than you want.

"Always aiding him when you should be here with us," Lae'zal says through gritted teeth. This statement grants her another intense stare from Karlach, to which she just bears her teeth at her.

Karlach looks back towards you and grins, "We will be there after we finish training. I'm sure they won't mind a night's rest from this one." She points over at Lae'zal, who just rolls her eyes at the gesture. You smile and give Karlach a big hug, which no longer burns since fixing her engine. You glance at Lae'zal, who finally uncrosses her arms and relaxes as much as she can.

"I will be there by no choice of my own." Lae'zal scoffs, a sign that she isn't as upset as she gives off.

"Alright, where's Wyll? He's next on my list." You say, looking around and expecting him to be there. Usually, he is around to help the Blades of Avernus grow and learn how to protect the city.

"Oh, he's downstairs. That's where the Blades practice after he rebuilt the old prison as a training ground." Karlach says before turning back to the trainees. "Break over! Let's get back to it."

As they line up, you head down to what used to be Wyrm's Rock prison. Once you get down the stairs, you take in the new training area. It's fitted with all the best weapons, shields, and armor that Baldur's Gate has to offer. As you look around in awe, you hear Wyll helping the Blades of Avernus gain in ranks.

"Blades, we have a special guest; please give them your respect," Wyll states before you can even process it. All the Blades stand up and give you a sign of respect. You nod towards the soldiers, and Wyll says, "At ease, back to your training."

He turns to you and smiles, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You smile back at him with the same twinge in your stomach that you had when talking to Karlach and Lae'zal. "I'm getting everyone together for a get-together at my home. I was hoping you might be able to come. Astarion is having a hard time, and I think it could cheer him up." You look up at him softly with the same break in your voice.

"You can count on me." He says, saluting you with a grin. "I should be done shortly; I'll head there as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Wyll. I'll see you tonight!" You bounce off, successfully recruiting all your friends for a fun night.

____________________________________________________________

Before heading home, you head to Behive General Goods to gather some goods for tonight. You realize that it's going to be hard to surprise Astarion with all of these people and groceries. It's time for you to add a step to your plan.

You head back to the Underdark, hiding your groceries somewhere Astarion couldn't see them. You then head to Dalyria's home, heading to ask her for help with distracting her 'brother.' You knock on the door, waiting for a response before walking in.

Dalyria opens the door and smiles once she sees your face. "Y/N! Come on in." You walk through the door, returning her smile.

"Hi, Dalyria, I have a favor to ask. Could you possibly distract Astarion for an hour or two? I have a surprise for him." You smile brightly towards her.

"Easily. I'll go over there now! Do you need him to leave the house?" She says kindly, happy to assist obliviously.

"Yes, please! There will be quite a few people. Can you also ask your other siblings to come over a little earlier? You and Petra can come with him when the time comes."

"Yes, I absolutely can do that. Oh, I am so excited. It's been a while since I've had to keep a secret." You instantly know what she means, but try not to let the thought hold you too long.

_____________________________________________________________

Once you see Astarion leave with Dalyria, you grab your hidden groceries and get the party set up. While you don't have to make food for him, you start cooking for your food-eating friends. Along with that, you set up some carafes of wine out on the table. Once you have things finished, you hear familiar voices outside your home. You run up to the door and open it to a crowd of faces that light up your heart. They start pouring in, each with something in their hand. This went from a small party to a much larger gathering than you expected. Thankfully, they brought enough to cover everyone.

You look around as your longest friends mingle with each other, laughing and filling your home with warmth and joy. You can't wait to see how Astarion reacts when he shows up with Dalyria. The vampires come in shortly after everyone arrives and begin mingling with the crowd. Your plan has finally come together and ended up even better than you imagined.

______________________________________________________________

When you see Astarion approaching the house, you shush everyone for his entrance. As he opens the front door, everyone simultaneously shouts, "SURPRISE!" Astarion looks around in absolute shock, taken back by all the kind and familiar faces. He lets out a loud laugh as everyone joins in, surrounding him to say hello. You allow him to mingle around with his long-missed friends to allow him to glow up.

You watch him at a distance, smiling as you see him joking and laughing with everyone. Seeing him return to himself brings you a joy unmatched by anything you've felt since you first met. He looks around, locks eyes with you, mouthing 'I love you' and grinning. You mouth 'I love you more' back to him, winking as you move to mingle with the others. You walk over to the group to listen to the conversations being had.

You listen to adventures retold, new experiences from the point you all split ways, and everything in between. From Gale's tales with Tressym and Rolan to Wyll's expertise with the Blades of Avernus, everything seems to feel back to normal with everyone except Lae'zal. She is recluse, not talking with everyone and keeping to herself. You decide to speak to her privately to see what you can get out of her.

_____________________________________________________________

"Lae'zal, can we speak, please?" You say softly so the others don't hear.

"Tsk'va, why would I want to talk to you? I am only here because of Karlach." She scoffs, crossing her arms like she did at Wyrm's Rock. You sigh softly at her, grabbing her arm to drag her outside. She yelps, but you get her outside before she can throw a fit.

"Let me go, istik." She hisses, yanking her arm away from you. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I'm here to ask you what is going on. Why are you so angry at me?" You say, crossing your arms to meet her energy.

She rolls her eyes, annoyed at you. "Is it not obvious? You left us for SO long, not even a word or a letter. You could've been dead for all we knew. Then, you come back and ask us to do you this favor when we know you'll just leave again. This will be the last time you see me." She glares at you, keeping the energy she's had the whole time.

You sigh, understanding her frustration and taking it in. She's completely valid in her concerns, but you aren't sure what to say to make her feel better. "You are completely valid in your feelings. I got so encompassed down here that I didn't think about the effects it would have on everyone else. I'm sorry; I truly am. I promise going forward that, I will come up with more. We can plan night events as well to bring Astarion around. I should've done this from the beginning, but I will correct my actions going forth."

Lae'zal takes a deep breath and relaxes her stance more. "If you break this promise, I will never forgive you. I will leave you behind like I have done to many before you. I will accept it...for now." She glances at you and then back inside. You take the hint and follow her back into the party.

______________________________________________________________

When you return, it seems that no one noticed your little skiff outside, and they're still mingling together. You go and grab yourself a drink from the table when a hand all too familiar to yourself rests on your shoulder.

"Thank you, darling," Astarion whispers, kissing you on the cheek gently. You smile at the kiss and turn to him to see his soft smile. "This means so much to me; how did you know I needed it?"

"I know you better than you know yourself. I needed it as well, ya know?" You smile as you rest your hand on his cheek. He rests his face against your hand, closing his eyes to your soft touch. This moment makes you both forget you're in a room full of people. You softly rub his cheek, but your moment is quickly dispelled by hooting and hollering by your friends in the room. Astarion whips back at them, and they immediately silence themselves, sipping their drinks. He bursts into laughter and heads back to the group, winking back at you. You join them, telling stories and gaggling about everything. The night flows into the morning, wrapped in love and friendship for the whole time.

______________________________________________________________

Everyone has left, most helping to clean up and leaving you and Astarion to relax after the long party. He sits on the couch, and you lay next to him, resting your head on his lap. He plays with your hair as you sit in silence, closing your eyes to his touch. You sit in silence for a while, the first in the last few hours. After a while, he breaks the silence in a hushed voice.

"This night is one I won't forget for a while. I didn't realize how long it had been since we had seen everyone. I missed the laughter, the stories, and their presence. Thank you, dear. I will never be able to stop thanking you." He smiles at your calm face, looking at every crevice that he adores.

You open your eyes and smile back at him, looking lovingly in his eyes. "I would do it again, a thousand times over, just to see that lovely smile of yours." You sit up, bringing him into a soft kiss, feeling him smile throughout. Your kiss deepens, filled with passion, love, and thrill. You pull back, resting your forehead against his, both grinning from ear to ear.

"It's nice to have you back."

"It's good to be back, my sweet."

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #hc #x reader #reader insert #astarion x tav

97 notes · View notes

dovithedarklord · 5 months

Text

Age of Monsters - Chapter Nine

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

Leona gets involved in an exciting adventure and receives surprising help.

Hello!

I have a few Trigger Warnings for today's chapter: Blood, violence, weapons, gore, viscera, death, and extensive injuries.

Have fun!:)

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform

I.H.L. - Infected humanoid lifeform

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Nine

..........................................

Everything is happening so fast that I can only stare in shock at what unfolds before my eyes through the binoculars. A whole dozen deformed creatures emerge from the smoke rising after the explosion, and they throw themselves among the debris of the street at such a speed, that the soldiers who took cover hardly have time to retreat before one of the beasts, which looks as heavy as a small elephant, snarls and throws itself at the wreck that has served as a hiding place for them. And it's only thanks to MacTavish's lightning-fast reflexes that the bear-like monster doesn't tear one of the scattered soldiers apart, because the Hunter appears in front of the mutant so suddenly, that I'm unable to follow him with my paralyzed brain. With his bare hands, he fights back the shovel-like, huge paw that is about to strike, so that when the enraged creature stands up on its two hind legs and attacks again, he hits the vital organs with a couple of well-aimed shots and takes the behemoth down.

However, they don't have time to enjoy this small victory, because more and more I.M.L.s appear, and as I glance at the entrance to the nest, I realize that, judging by the number of mutants constantly pouring out, they certainly won't have a chance to rejoice for a while. But if this all continues like this, it's also doubtful whether anyone will survive long enough to see a happy ending. A desperate fight begins, and the soldiers flee to get some cover behind the many ruins spread out on the street, from where they attempt to pump the monsters galloping towards them full with bullets. And I'm trying to process what happened through the astonishment taking over my limbs. The I.H.L.s walked through those fucking bombs, willingly and with great joy, to defuse them for their friends who showed up next. Not only did the I.M.L.s not kill the humanoid abominations, they welcomed them into the warmth of their nice little family, and now they even seem to be working together. Which is a fucking wild assumption, even for my imagination running rampant with stress, because so far there has been no example of this in the last fifty years. These bastards are incapable of intelligent actions, let alone outmaneuvering those who hunt them. What the hell is going on here?

"It's Hunter 0-15! Everyone stays in position! They can't go any further!" I hear Riley's command on the radio, and the raw anger in his voice is the testimony that the hell that broke loose has also caught him desperately unprepared. All calmness is lost from his words reaching my ears, and because of this, my pulse skyrockets and tries to breathe some life into me, because it slowly reaches my awareness that the situation will soon become difficult for me as well, even though I am far away from the events.

MacTavish's little soldiers continue to fire at the mutants from behind the rubble, and although they are surprisingly effective at killing the demonic creatures, and they manage to eliminate some of them, this isn't nearly enough for most of them to stay on the ground permanently. Again, a loud explosion shakes the street, which has turned into a picture of frenzied killing, and I'm also forced to close my eyes for a moment from the flashing lights. And by the time I turn back to follow the actions, the foglike smoke that has appeared lulls me into a false calm with its immobility. Because when it starts to disintegrate, it reveals the corpses of the monsters torn to pieces, but soon more of their friends arrive to take their place. It's as if they are besieged by an endless stream, and despite the soldiers fighting and shooting at them incessantly, the dozens of monsters that keep popping up create this feeling, which causes unimaginable panic to run through my every nerve fiber. As if the mouth of the nest would open straight into hell, where more and more vermins ready to kill would pour out. And the whole struggle suddenly seems like a completely hopeless suffering.

Maybe that's why the Hunter with the mohawk can decide to take matters into his hands and rush towards the beasts alone, entrusting his team's survival to his abilities. He can also guess that if even one of the I.M.L.s gets close enough to his comrades, that unfortunate person will suffer the most painful death imaginable. And although he has the repertoire with which he can take out these bastards, his lethal power is in vain if he is outnumbered by the enemy. And this isn't a good thing, to say the least.

"Cover me!" MacTavish says on the radio to his comrades behind him, who obey his instructions without hesitation and get ready in a second to target anything they can. And as the man steps out of his cover and sets off towards the diabolic creatures with a determined momentum, my stomach shrinks from some unknown unpleasant grip, because the only image that appears in my mind is the promise of the Hunter's dead body frozen in blood. And although I trust him and his experience, I'm unable to banish this simple intuition from my subconscious, which is slowly torn in two by the claws of worry and terror.

Despite all the risks, he directs his weapon at the incoming beasts without a moment's delay, hitting them with brutal precision before they can get even a little close enough to attack. And when one of the degenerates, throwing itself over the defeated cadaver of its companion, comes within arm's reach of the Hunter, he frees one hand and swings his fist at his attacker, and hits the brute’s bare, skull-like head with such force that even though I can only see the image through the lens of the binoculars, but in my ears I hear the imaginary crunching of bones. The I.M.L. falls to the ground, and as it lies down in the dust, I see its blood-soaked face, mangled by the blow, in which MacTavish makes a hole with a well-aimed shot just to be on the safe side.

Even I'm amazed at the efficiency with which he exterminates the wretched swines, an although they continue to advance towards the small group with unstoppable anger, still hope awakens in me when the man I have known so far as harmless and friendly shows that it’s no accident that he belongs to S-class. Even though it seems stomach-churning, as minute by minute he enriches the road decorated with black blood and wrecks with more and more unrecognizable limp bodies, I still hope that this pace won't leave him and he sends all these bastards to the other world.

Still, when a mutant larger than its previous buddies appears and, pointing its horns at MacTavish, rushes forward, cutting through the carcasses lying in the filth, my blood runs cold. A skillful little soldier begins to shoot, but it doesn’t make a difference, for the beast charges forward furiously and unrelenting toward its goal, and when it arrives and strikes with unstoppable momentum, it's just a hair's breadth away from slicing open the chest of its victim, who is lucky enough that his vest absorbs the lion's share of the attack. Taking a few steps back, the Scotsman lowers his weapon onto its sling, then pulls himself together to grab the bone growths that are about to strike again, before it can stab him. He fixes his booted feet on the ground to hold back the enraged monster, who tries to push forward toward his chosen prey with muscles tensing under the pale, scarred skin. For a nerve-wracking moment, when the Hunter's legs slide backward in the dust, it seems that he might lose his balance and the fiend will get to him, but this horrific illusion lasts only for an uncertain second. In the blink of an eye, he regains control and pushes his attacker by its horns, then reaches into his tactical vest, grabs a large hunting knife from there and places it in the head of the mutant. The blade sinks right up to the hilt into the creature's skull as easily as if the man just wanted to cut a birthday cake, and he pulls it out with at least that much ease, so that he can continue the fight undisturbed.

And as soon as I see the large body spread out on the ground, I let out the air which I didn't know with what despair had stuck in my lungs until now. I hastily shift my gaze through my binoculars to assess the less-than-ideal state of the battlefield, because at this point the eventual outcome of this fight becomes highly doubtful. And I'm not greeted by a prettier sight from the intersection either, and although I see some of the monsters fall on the road limply, another one inexplicably appears in its place, which throws itself to the soldiers firing from their hiding places. And even my mind, confused by the chaos, knows that we have stepped into a real wasp's nest, because it has long since gone beyond the limits of a routine nest extermination. This is something completely different that we walked into completely unprepared.

I continue to observe the chaotic scene of the battle, and I'm just about to make up my mind to create some workable plan that could help me to survive, when something in my periphery suddenly moves on the battered roof of one of the ruined buildings. Reflexively, I turn my head in the direction of the phenomenon, and concentrating all my attention there, I try to assess with my sharp little eyes, what the figure slowly creeping out from the shadows and appearing almost out of nowhere could be. And when the silvery light of the moon finally envelops the stranger, my eyebrows meet in confusion at the sight materializing before me. Because for a split second, it occurs to me that I might have fallen victim to a hallucination caused by fear and stress, because I can't find a sane explanation as to why the I.M.L., with a body woven with lean muscles, appears with a human-like creature on its back peeping ever so slowly through the stumps of half-destroyed walls covered with vegetation.

But, when I understand what I'm seeing and my brain starts to work on interpreting the visual stimuli received through my eyes, a completely new kind of astonishment comes over me. It defies all known facts as the mutant and its rider stalk towards the edge of the building with almost stoic calm, and just the wording of this observation is enough to make me lean forward, holding on to the handrail, to see if I can get a better look at this impossible picture. The I.H.L. sitting on his cute little pet looks down on the events taking place in the turmoil of the street as superiorly as if it were just watching a movie, and although I can't see its face clearly, I can still perfectly measure up that its features have remained much more human-like than those of its other infected friends. While the other infected humanoid creatures only resembled their late selves in traces, and like the other monsters they took on an amorphous form littered with ulcers, growths, and superhuman muscles, which probably makes their appearance resemble a wraith from a nightmare, this individual remained surprisingly human. Only a few tumors and scars decorate its body, swollen with developed muscles, and its unwavering and proud posture is definitely different from the horrible nest dwellers.

However, I don't have time to analyze the creature any further, because when it raises one hand and points it towards the soldiers and Scottish Hunter fighting at the end of the road, I suddenly forget to muse on the events that took place so far. Because at least a dozen I.H.L.s drag themselves out of the alley that runs next to the building with slow movements, and at the silent instructions of their leader puffing above them, they begin a clumsy but all the more determined stealth towards the unsuspecting troops. And at this point, my mind finally snaps out of the paralyzed contemplation and instead postpones my further smart observations, and my hand hastily reaches for the radio resting on my tactical vest so I can warn MacTavish before the bastards can surprise them.

"MacTavish! I.H.L.s are approaching you from behind!" I shout with an almost desperate urgency, and I tensely aim my eyes at the man, who continues to fight with restless momentum against the ever-coming mass of enemies. An icy terror shoots through me when I don't see any reaction from him, and only one of the soldiers turns back for a moment to check the authenticity of the information coming from me. And when he notices the lanky figures slowly emerging from the shadows of the walls, he quickly spins around and waves his hand to the rest of his comrades who have retreated to cover.

"They're behind us!" I hear the soldier's nervous voice in my ear, and now they all think it's better to turn around and deal with the new threat that is approaching them with dangerous certainty. Even so, the restlessness of the soldiers doesn't break the Hunter from his murderous activities, and he continues to wipe out the monsters showing up from the intersection, despite the fact that by now he is doing this by himself. And I frown in confusion, since he gives no sign of being aware of the catastrophe that will soon begin.

It seems I'm not the only one who notices this, because one of the soldiers hiding close by suddenly jumps up and motions towards the Hunter, no doubt trying to shout over the noise of the active battle. And when he doesn't succeed, he hastily leaves his hideout and sneaks closer to try to warn his superior again. This message finally reaches its destination, because the Scottish man puts down the mutant coming towards him in a fraction of a second, only to look back and face the creatures that are about to pounce on them.

But then it's too late, because the monstrosities, who have been advancing calmly up to this point, suddenly find their anger and attack the small group with all their uncontrollable bloodlust, and the Hunter and his men are now forced to defend themselves from two directions. The soldiers immediately start firing, but all efforts and even the Hunter fighting at their side are in vain when a handful of people don't stand a chance against these wretches. Since when the I.H.L.s reach them, the real carnage begins, and in the blink of an eye, the hopeless struggle thus far turns into total hell. They unstoppably burst into the combatants, and as one of the deformed creatures throws itself at the man shooting from behind a chunk of concrete, it grabs its victim by the neck with indefensible speed with its grotesque, spider-like long arms, and tears off the unfortunate soldier's head with playful ease, as if it had just tried to rip off a piece of grape from its cluster. And the acid rises in my throat at the sight with unforgiving force, and holding my hand in front of my mouth, I swallow back the contents of my stomach that want to burst out, which was led toward the outside world by fear so graciously.

I can't hear it, but it's enough to see MacTavish's mouth open in agony to feel the surprised fury in the scream that leaves the man's lips. But the fun isn't over yet, as the chaos of the night that turned into bloodshed is cut in two by a bone-chilling roar that draws my attention back to the unknown being who started this whole fucking event. And that bastard climbs down the side of the building where it had been observing up until now, sitting on top of the mutant behemoth, and gallops towards the group fighting desperately with its chest out. And my hands reflexively find my radio to do something, to warn someone who knows how to prevent the horror that is slowly unfolding before my eyes.

"MacTavish! There's one more coming up from behind!" I yell into the device at full volume, and I look again for the mentioned person, but instead of responding to my call, he throws himself into eliminating the beasts with even more aggression than before, like a cornered wild animal. And the unpleasant realization dawns on me that this cannot be the work of chance, and that he is not deliberately ignoring my call, but that some accident has happened with his communication device. And this, if possible, pushes me even further towards complete panic, the like of which I wasn't lucky enough to feel even in the forest. That's why I decide it's time to tell someone else about the mess the team got into.

"Riley!" I call for the masked Hunter, ignoring the panic that mixes with my voice that breaks through the radio. Because my instincts are taking over my brain, and it screams inside my skull that if my Scottish friend doesn't get help soon, I'm going to watch with my own two eyes as that fucking beast-riding mutant bastard guts him. And this is just enough to drive my body to the verge of dizziness. "MacTavish's team is surrounded, they need help!" I exclaim, and I shift my frantic gaze to the intersection through my binoculars, just in case Riley and one of his partners appear in the heat of the madness and rush to help.

However, for a nerve-wracking moment, no answer comes, and although I can hear the soldiers messaging each other in broken voices, none of them are the deep, British-accented ones I'm looking for. And that disgusting foreboding creeps into my skull, which tells me that something terrible might have happened to the other man, which prevents him from answering. And this possibility triggers even more ominous thoughts in my brain, which is already falling into a deeper pit of stress. But, when I hear the crackling of the radio in my ear, I almost instinctively feel a sense of relief, because I wouldn't be able to process so much crap in one night.

"Roger that. Stay where you are." Comes the rather concise reaction, and while his tone doesn't surprise me at all, his words are even more so. There is such a measured indifference radiating from the man over the line as he directs this firm instruction at me, that it instantly raises my blood pressure. Because I get the feeling that, he's belittling my concerns and disregarding my observations, and ignoring my entire report, as if it were nothing more than the unnecessary squealing of a silly little girl. Although I can accurately assess the superior confidence with which the demonic monster approaches our mutual friend, who is slowly running out of space to protect himself from threats.

"Riley, I'm not fucking kidding!" I snap at the man fiercely, and my fingers tighten around the radio with such force that I'm afraid it will crack in my grip. "There's a fucking I.H.L. riding a mutant, and it directs the other bastards there and they're cornering MacTavish and his team!" I explain to him, leaving behind all my pride and arrogance, which I have been so happy to convey to him during our conversations. With this, hoping that he will also understand the seriousness of the situation and will finally rally his people, and help the Scottish man so that we can get out of this cesspool together. Because the only chance of survival here is to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Whether this is the orderly and correct step or not.

"Continue to observe and hold your position!" He raises his voice now, informing me of his previously perfectly worded order a little more irritatedly, with which the problem so far wasn't that my brain cells couldn't process it. And I stare blankly into the distance, with my flaming eyes fixed on the man even through the ruined buildings covered with plants, because I'm unable to understand what is so damn hard to understand in the fact that without his help, his friend will soon kick the bucket. As I take another look at the battle taking place in the street, and see how the multitude of monsters and degenerate creatures are slowly closing in on MacTavish and his two companions who are still alive, my chest tightens with a stabbing pain. Too many enemies are arriving, and there is no end in sight to the bloody mess, and although the Hunter is heroically trying to stand his ground, it's perfectly clear that their chances of survival will soon be zero if something is not done urgently. And it seems that the man is also aware of this, because he nervously turns his head behind his back, looking for an escape route, so that when he notices the entrance to the small alley stretching to the left, he signals to his men to order them behind him. He keeps his weapon on the beats attacking them, trying to hold them back until he manages to fish out a grenade from his vest, and then throws the useful little bomb into the small gang of mutants. The force of the explosion causes the bastards to fly apart like startled birds, and those who are still hit by the detonation are blown into discrete pieces. It seems that MacTavish takes advantage of this momentary distraction, because by the time the dust and smoke clears, there is no sign of him and his friends. And even though I lose sight of them in this way, it still makes me more anxious to wonder how much time they will gain with this stunt before their pursuers catch up with them again.

My concerns are soon answered, because the mutant-riding I.H.L. stands only with immeasurable calmness at the edge of the scene of destruction, only to retreat for a fleeting moment, surveying its sweet little beasts with quite deceptive apathy. It gives the impression as it runs its milk-white gaze over its remaining bloodthirsty companions, as if it would just count how many chess pieces it has left, which it can mobilize in order to inflict maximum damage. And when it’s convinced that there are still enough scumbags that it can unleash on its victims, it once again directs the dozens of monsters towards the escape route used by the Scotsman with that eerily sensible gesture, and the brutes throw themselves onto the designated path with murderous enthusiasm. But it doesn't stay idle either, no. As soon as the last of its kind is swallowed up by the darkness of the side street, the monster below it suddenly moves and dashes after them with amazing speed. And it doesn't take much logic for me to figure out that this is going to be a hide-and-seek with an easily fatal outcome. And this gives me enough justification to try asking for help again.

"Riley!" I call for the man again, and I know that there is real desperation and anger in my voice, but the urgent feeling that with every passing minute, we are getting closer to the bloody highlight of this whole nerve-racking mission doesn’t let me rest. And when a few painfully long seconds pass and there is still no answer, my teeth clench so nervously that my jaw almost aches from it. What the fuck?

"MacTavish has left his position and is now being chased by a herd of mutants. If someone doesn't help them, they will most certainly die." I try again, now perhaps more impatiently than necessary, emphasizing each word separately. But again, I don't get any reaction, from which I can directly conclude that the man is probably swimming up to his knees in the carcasses of the beasts, and thus he can be in exactly as dire of a position as his friend with the mohawk. Because I know he wouldn’t deliberately ignore my warning about the suffering of his dear friend, considering how fiercely he defended his little unit from my harmful little scheming.

From this whole helpless situation, the image of MacTavish's mangled body, lying in the dirt swimming in blood while a beast feasts on him, flashes before my mind's eye inexplicably. The vision projected in my imagination seems so real that the pressure, which was benevolently suppressed by the compulsion to follow the events, once again returns to its well-accustomed place in my throat. Just the thought that the life of the man, who effectively sneaked into the corners of my dark little soul even during our fleeting time together, would die in such a violent and painful manner fills my limbs with unbearable pain.

And as I take in the sight of the gaping nest at the intersection and the monsters rampaging around it through my binoculars again, the very definite idea begins to take shape in the winding paths of my gray matter, that maybe it's time to leave my position that lulls me into the illusion of safety. Although all my survival instincts protest against the idea, I still have the best chance to rush to the aid of the Scottish Hunter, because his other comrades, just like him, are still fighting desperately for their lives. And this simple fact seems like such a logical step, which nevertheless sufficiently triggers the raging waves of adrenaline in my body. And the smile that makes its way to my face breaks out of me almost hysterically when I realize how far I have strayed from the selfish little ideas of my former self at this moment. Because while previously no one could have persuaded me to commit such a stupid and irresponsible move, now the voice in the deepest part of my skull is reviving, which drowns out the sounds of my selfishness, and which screams for me to pull myself together and finally do something. I've never been a coward, I've always been manipulative and calculating, so it's time to act before the terror in my stomach wins. Shit.

"I'll go after him." I announce my sudden decision with surprising ease, as soon as my fingers find my radio again. It's quite obvious that even though I could flee in silence and maybe even survive, every cell in me is furiously protesting the fleeting idea, as if the suggestion itself were a disgusting disease. And thinking rationally, I'm most definitely not going to get out of here alone tonight, so it would be best if I would actively do something so that I and my little friends can get through the night. Even if I put my own skin at risk.

"I told you not to leave your position! This is a command!" Riley's voice suddenly echoes in my ears, and I find it quite funny that breaking his instructions is what finally prompts him to react. I'd like to think he's sounding so aggressive over the radio because he's worried about my safety, but I know he probably just wants to avoid explaining how I died if I would actually bit the bullet during my rescue operation. And while my realistic self understands why he insists to idle my time away here, the fact that he would rather keep me at this fucking observation point than let me do what I'm willingly offering helps the poison spread through my veins. Now is not the time when he can flaunt his dominance, because once I have a rock-solid determination, very little will distract me from it. And the role of the strict Hunter is not one of them.

"I couldn't care less about your order, Riley." I throw my remark at him determinedly, and although I know that this will probably only fan the flames of his temper even more, unfortunately, this die is already cast. "I won't let him die." I explain to him my brief reasoning behind my sudden decision, and before I can even wait for his answer, my hands glide with automatic movements towards the communicator hidden deep in the side pocket of my pants, and with my clever little fingers I call up the map of the whole damn city so that I can look for the man with the mohawk on it. And when the little red dot marking him with his call sign appears, as he flees diligently heading west, then I already know what the target direction of my little action will be.

"Woods! Stay in your fuckin' position!" The masked man reprimands me again, but I only deal with this matter with a sarcastic snort, because at this point he already should know that he won't stop me with this, because he hasn't been able to divert me with his threats so far either. And only a hidden corner of my consciousness grasps the unknown and impatient tension, which until now I haven't heard in his deep voice, but I don't pay any importance to it now. After all, at this moment, the interpretation of his behavior, unfortunately, fell back in the order of priority. And because of this, I decide that I'd rather not waste any more words on this futile verbal battle, because I will get to where I need to be that much later.

"I'll let you know when there's a new development." I send him one last message, so that I can finally surrender to the impatient nervousness in my muscles, which pushes each of my limbs towards action. And although panic is still actively working in my veins, my realization gives me enough impetus to finally move. I push myself away from the handrail that has provided me with firm support until now, and sliding my binoculars back into their holder, I turn my back on the active battlefield, where the sound of loud gunfire and inarticulate howls still fills the space. I grab my assault rifle slung over my shoulder and start with hasty steps towards the stairs leading down from the overpass, crossing the broken concrete road. Even I'm amazed at how springy my movements are, as I take the steps in twos, only to start running immediately after a final check of my communicator.

I decide that I might have better luck avoiding the monsters whose after MacTavish if I try to approach them one street up, because the mutants are definitely working on cornering him. And if the beast-riding bastard is there with them, then unfortunately for the Hunter, but to my luck, maybe his trashy friends won't wander away from there. Because, even though I was suddenly promoted to a one-man relief army, my common sense and will to survive didn't leave me. I run across the wide road, from the end of which the sounds of the battle still reach me, and even though I still hear the memory of Riley's deep voice filled with anger, I only take one last look at the events taking place at the intersection. I will care about the man's rage when everyone is back in the safe and calm confines of the base. Maybe I'll even be happy if he scolds me.

A narrow stretch of road between ruined buildings appears in front of my eyes, and when I realize that the next part of my journey will lead to it, I double my speed and throw myself into the side street surrounded by crumbling walls. I'm greeted by nothing but ominous pitch darkness, and my nose is suddenly filled with the smell of wet vegetation and gunpowder traveling on the back of the wind, but I'm not deterred for a moment by this archival horror movie environment. It takes some time for my eyes to adjust to the world of the alley dominated by shadows, and for the few seconds until this happens, I continue sprinting without waiting, because my heart beating in my ears and the adrenaline bubbling in my veins tells me that there is no time to hesitate. But thanks to fate, my pretty little eyes overcome this obstacle after running a few meters blindly, and from then on I continue on the desolate road with full confidence.

My lungs are filled with decades of dust kicked up by my steps, and the fine crumbs of plaster peeling off the crumbling walls slowly fill my mouth, but even in spite of this, I hurry along the narrow and ridiculously long street. Sometimes I jump with the elegance of a gazelle over the many abandoned belongings and objects lying on the ground that are rotten beyond recognition, and my mind, focused on the task, doesn't stop to think about what a piece of cloth of dubious origin or an obscure outline that appears suspiciously might be. And I'm terribly grateful for that, because now I don't feel like getting into that kind of nostalgia.

When the claustrophobic feeling from wandering in the depths of the alley would finally start to get on my nerves, my small path suddenly ends and I get to another wide concrete road, in the middle of which an overturned large vehicle is lying still. And although most of the paint had peeled off, there are still a couple of yellow scale-like remnants left on it, from which I can deduce that it must have been a school bus once. And I prefer to direct my gaze to the hologram glowing in blue on my communicator, rather than to the windows that look like many screaming mouths, through which I catch the decaying frames of the torn seats for a moment.

I search for MacTavish's blinking little dot on the map again, and when I find it three streets down, pulsing unmovingly in one place, worry fills me. Because the fact that he decided to take a rest in the middle of his escape can mean two things. Either he managed to kill all the mutants, or something is actively preventing him from leaving. And if it's the latter, then I have to hurry because it could lead straight to his death.

I quickly identify the small, one-way street where I will continue my way, which is located one street directly above the position of the Hunter, so that I can leave behind the haunting ruins of the school and begin my frenzied sprint once again. My whole body continues to be doped by the ever-growing waves of adrenaline, which drives away the dryness that bites my esophagus, the burning tension in my muscles, and every other sensation, and pushes me further into the emptiness of the seemingly endless street. The moonlight colors the once serene surroundings in silver and lends a quite eerie atmosphere to the silence, which slowly envelops everything. The sounds of the battle in the combat zone behind me had long since disappeared, and nothing remains but the dull noise of my boots pounding on the concrete and the sound of my hurried breathing.

Every minute, I return to the map looming in blue with my eyes, and as the red dot marking the man with the mohawk, still blinking frozen in place, gets closer and closer, my heart rate soars to dangerous heights. Because I have a strong suspicion that my first hypothesis was correct, and that the being leading the mutants really directed all of his minions towards the Hunter, and that's exactly why MacTavish has been stalling in the same place for minutes, and that's why luck has so far spared me from running into stray I.M.L.. And this realization is a sufficient warning for caution, because at this point it becomes clear that I will have to come up with a tricky little tactic if I want to save not only the man and his friends, but also my own skin.

And when I finally see the end of this damned street, I rather take back my momentum, because I hear the unmistakable deep, rasping and definitely otherwordly grunts and growls, the likes of which only a single lifeform can emit. With cat-like steps, I sneak closer to the end of the street to look for a temporary hiding place, snuggling up against the side of a building dotted with decaying old plaster. I slowly and silently slide my communicator back into my pocket, as I suspect it will be obvious where the Scotsman and his companions have been confined. Resting my palm against the wall, I lean out of the my hideout, and when I see the mob of beasts, my eyebrows nervously furrow. Because a good thirty meters away, they are peacefully huddling in front of an alley, from which the muffled sounds of fighting are heard. And they have every reason to be calm, because the mutant-riding I.H.L. does the same, and observes the events of the battle that emanate from the dark alley with deep indifference. As my gaze glides across the gathered herd to assess how many of them are there, I see a small group of monsters circling the ground with great interest. And as soon as one of them moves, I can finally see what occupied them so effectively. Although there is only a blood-soaked, mangled corpse lying on the ground, I only need to look at the uniformed leg dangling from one of the beast's sharp, needle-like teeth to know that by now MacTavish may be the last survivor of his team. And I thank the stress hormone working in me for kindly suppressing the first friendly waves of nausea, because I don't want to be caught just because I do a technicolor yawn.

And before I can analyze the situation further, I hear a loud bang of a gun firing, which is followed by sick silence. It seems that the little fucker riding the beast could have been waiting for this, because it seizes this opportunity and decides to join the party, raising an object that looks terriby close to a spear in its hand. My chest suddenly tightens as my brain takes in the facts, and then the decision is born in me that I have to act now, or the Hunter, who may have run out of ammunition and weapons, and may be injured and exhausted, won't be able to stand his ground against this scumbag. Even if every fiber of my being hopes the contrary.

And this, instead of causing me to fall into despair, in some inexplicable way rekindles the bubbling energy in my veins that I last felt when I locked eyes with that fucking wild boar. And although I thought that my body wasn't shaken for a moment by that faithful meeting, I'm still glad that this image is etched in my memory. Because now at least I will benefit from the unquestionable determination that once again overwhelms me, and now even though not my survival depends on it, I let this unknown force lick my insides with angry flames. And my brain in a heightened state magically comes up with the plan that I have to implement. And for some reason, I have no doubts about its success.

My fingers nimbly fish out the flash grenade resting on my vest, and its other two much more destructive brothers, because it seems much more logical and poetic to shred these garbage into confetti, as they did with the unsuspecting soldiers. I emerge from the cover of the wall for the last time, and I see that the monsters are still waiting for me at their dinner table, stuffing their faces, and this suddenly makes me want to kill them even more. My body moves almost by itself, and I aim my weapon with automatic movements, then throw the flash grenade between the gathered mutants with such precision as if I had been doing this all my life. I quickly hide myself behind the wall again, and the bastards don't even have time to process what's happening, because as soon as the sneaky little gadget hits the ground, the blinding light that escapes from it momentarily covers the entire ruined street. And when a deafening whine-like sound erupts from them, I know that my vile little distraction was effective.

I grasp the opportunity, and I don't give them time to recover from this, but I activate the two companions that are more powerful than the flash grenade, and I send them flying on their destructive journey straight between the paralyzed, frozen creatures. And although I once again retreat to the protective shield of the building, when the hand grenades land, they explode with a well-known boom, after which nothing remains but the air movement and the mass of dust flying with it. Thus, even in the shelter of my hiding place, I hear the wet splashing of torn bodies of the beasts and the sharp thump of the debris hitting the ground, and I take this as the sign that I can finally make my entrance on the blood-covered stage.

I step out onto the concrete road with every inch of my body filled with determination, and I see, through the dispersing smoke, that my little surprise has indeed achieved the necessary effect. The remains of bodies mutilated beyond recognition lie on the ground, and even the luckier ones, those who are still moving and writhing on the mangled leashes of their own limbs, will no longer pose a threat. I briskly cross the street that has become the site of bloodshed, and my boots clatter with a disgusting sound in the dirt soaked with dark body fluids, but instead of being repulsed by the whole sight, a small joy awakens in my soul, because they all deserved it. Each and everyone of them.

It doesn't take long for me to reach the entrence of the alley, and when I arrive, I lose momentum for split second, and I pause to survey the scene unfolding before me. MacTavish might have been able to struggle heroically against the enemy until now, because the narrow street is covered by the many lifeless corpse of I.M.L.s, and it must have been a miracle of God that he survived in this hot water until now. But now, backing towards the end of the dead end alley, his hands are pressed to his stomach, where the remnants of his tactical vest and T-shirt hang in jagged pieces, giving a clear view of the long, claw-like cuts that run across his torso. A painful moan escapes the man, and his gaze glowing with weak red light is fixed on the beast towering over him, and on the deformed creature sitting on it, who is preparing to finish its cruel work with its spear raised high. And this awakens such anger and hatred in me, the heat of which burns my insides alive, and along which the energy burns even more strongly in my veins, sending a single message to my brain. Kill it. And it doesn't have to be said twice.

Before the scumbag can even make its next move, I grab my assault rifle and aim it without hesitation to pump the bastart full of bullets. My gun fires with a series of loud bangs, and I manage to surprise the mutant, because by the time it realizes what's happening, the fired bullets are already piercing through its body, and maybe even Riley himself would be proud of how efficiently I take I.H.L. down with my sharpened senses. A shrill scream erupts from it, then with a dull thump the human-like creature turns from the throne it had occupied until now, and as soon as it sprawls on the dirty ground, its pet also notices that something is very wrong. The mutant turns with such fervor, as if it were genuinely enraged by my intervention, which it might be. But I'm not frightened by the way it snarls and focuses all its attention on me, because when it lunges towards me and wants to get up on two legs to throw itself at me, I deploy my mean little rifle again and shoot the fucker with deadly efficiency, focusing on its chest, because the useful wisdom that I learned during my training appears in my brain. And I know from this that if I cause enough damage, it will fall to the ground. I don't have to be disappointed in the knowledge I've acquired from my teachers, because when a bunch of bloody gaping holes cover the brute's broad chest, it falls in the filth next to its master. As I unwaveringly walk towards it, and when with its last breath, the milky white eyes resting on its wrinkled, tumor-distorted head look up at me, then I decide to take pity on it and free it from its suffering, and I present it with one last bullet to its skull. It takes a few seconds for me to realize that it's over and I've killed both of them. And then the murderous red fog clears from my mind, and all my attention shifts to the Hunter kneeling at the back of the alley.

"MacTavish!" I shout, and I don't even try to get rid of the worry in my voice, because my nervous system is too overloaded to be able to work on such stunts. Instead, my body moves almost automatically, and I hurry through the narrow alley covered with corpses, shoving my weapon over my shoulder. And the closer I get, the more my anxiety increases, because this way I finally have the opportunity to measure the man's not-so-rosy state in detail.

"Woods... " He moans, and as he looks up at me, and the reddish glow in his eyes suddenly dissapears, which prompts me, when I finally reach him, to stumble and fall on my knees next to him, frantically directing my bright eyes at the injuries on his stomach and chest. “Why are you here? " He asks the completely logical question, yet impatience awakens in me from the way he is trying to question my actions through his pain.

"I came to save you." I tell him quickly and matter-of-factly, pushing his body back towards the wall of the alley with trembling hands so that he can rest while I assess the damage. The large cuts on his suntanned skin show off in an angry red color, from the deep furrows of which crimson blood gushes out, soaking what is left of his clothes. And as soon as I see the characteristic texture of the raw meat emerging on his belly, I don't hesitate any longer, I pull myself together and finally get to work. I can now perform what I was brought to do. Fuck!

"Leave me here..." He pleads with a his face distorted by pain, and as he closes his eyes, his head falls back and connects with the bricks with a soft thud, then I place my palms on his wounds without any delay, and fixing my gaze on his body, I aim the tensely bubbling waves of my energy towards him. "Go... Run..." He starts again with the martyr, self-sacrificing speech, and my teeth clench with such force from frustration that I feel my jaw ache from it.

"Shut up, Soap!" I glare at him, and even I myself don't notice what's slipping out of my mouth, but it's just enough to grab the Hunter's languid attention for a moment and snap him out of his self-pity. Only the beginnings of a cheeky smile appear on his lips, but before he can share his witty comment with me, suffering takes over his features again. And I take advantage of his silence to focus all my attention on healing, and as the complicated system of blood vessels, muscles and organs appear in my brain, and then the gaping cuts running across them, I close my eyes and cling to the damaged tissues with my own energy. In my mind, I watch how the torn blood vessels slowly but surely connect again, and I see how the torn fibers of the tissues intertwine, and gradually everything takes on its original, undamaged and flawless state. As the gashes of his wounds slowly disappear under my palms, the muscles that have been tense from agony also relax, and when a relieved sigh escapes from the man's mouth, I know that this will be enough for now. He probably won't die now, and although he still will be weak from the blood loss, he's just well enough to make a break for it. Because my womanly intuition tells me that my entrance was so radical that it will soon attract the scumbags who might have been idly looking around the area until now.

"Pull yourself together, MacTavish, we've got to go!" I warn the man in a firm voice, and shuffilng next to him I reaching under his arm to help him stand up by spreading my hand on his back. Surprisingly, the Hunter obeys my request right away, and hisses as he struggles to a standing position with me, putting his weight on me until he manages to pull himself together ready to go. "We have to get to the cars!" I tell him the facts, which represent the only possibility for survival, and which our other comrades have probably already set their sights on.

MacTavish acknowledges my proposal with only a weak nod, then sets off with me towards the entry of the alley as fast as he can, and I hastily lead him over the cadavers of so many beasts lying in the dust. As we pass the monster-riding F.H.L., I take one last look at its lanky, frighteningly pale body. And so, up close, it's even more unnatural how humanlike the mutation of the virus left it. I can't think of a reasonable explanation for this phenomenon, but since now is not the time for scientific reflection, I will save the whole problem for a later date. In my small room at the base, after a warm shower, I will stretch out in my bed and create hypotheses.

But when we reach the opening of the alley, the demonic growling sounds reach my ear canals again, signaling the approach of another fucking difficulty. These damned bastards never seem to run out, which awakens the suspicion me, that by size of the nest here, something really shady is behind the whole operation. Because it's quite certain that it wan’t the magically accelerated development of the virus that caused this whole tragic circus.

But before my thoughts can go any further, we step out into the street, and with that, we come face to face with the reception committee, who, breaking out of their mourning over the remains of their dead comrades, fix their eyes on us. And when the angry bloodthirst flares up there, I already know that there is still one more obstacle to go before we can even get to the end of the whole pile of shit. I push MacTavish's body against the wall of the building lining the side street, and he just leans against the hole-filled plaster with a weak groan full of suffering. He tries to say something to me, but before he could even start his sermon, I already have the gun in my hand again, and with all my remaining concentration I try to shoot down as many of the beasts swinging towards us almost simultaneously as possible.

And when life intervenes, and after a few shots I run out of ammo, I reach for the supply on my vest with hasty movements, but when the new magazine is just in my grasp, a beast appears in front of me, and I reflexively jump back before it could cut me open with its knife-like claws. And even though I thank the reflexes of my kind, my joy doesn't last long, because during my little maneuver, my foot skillfully finds one of the many pieces of debris lying on the ground. And as the piece of stone drifts under the sole of my boot and knocks me off my balance, I fell on my ass in such a beautiful curve that under other circumstances I would surely get a funny remark from my Scottish friend. But he holds into against the brick wall, hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, and doesn't pay attention to my clumsiness.

I fix my eyes on the monster attacking me, who has now been joined by a couple of its no less-dangerous friends, to end my life together. And I, keeping my eyes on them, reach for another magazine, because I cleverly dropped the previous one in the middle of my landing and released it somewhere among the other rubble. But by this time, the stress makes my movements properly uncoordinated, and although my mind is clear and continues to urge my body to act, my fingers suddenly become clumsy, even though I have already done this a thousand times with my masked trainer. It shouldn't be a problem for me to change a magazine, but as my brain takes in the mutants who are menacingly stalking towards me, waiting to pounce, then almost a short circuit occurs in every corner of my head. And the sly little voice in the back of my skull tells me that the effect of the adrenaline is diminishing, and that the energy I spent on healing the Scottish man is slowing me down at the moment.

However, after a few torturous seconds, my hand finally succeeds, just as the beast that wanted to slice me up gets tired of the slow, sinister stalking and swings towards me, springing into the air. And I aim my weapon at the monster as fast as I can, but before either of us can succeed in executing our attack, a metallic flash appears out of nowhere and hits the monster's head with such force that it splits apart with a gut-wrenching crack like an overripe melon. The dark blood of the mutant splashes on my face, but I'm unable to deal with it, because my mind is much more occupied by the very sinister figure that appears behind the beast falling to the ground.

It takes me a moment to comprehend who has come to save us, and when I finally realize that it's Riley, an indescribable shock washes over me. Because despite the fact that I voluntarily put my life on the line against his firm orders, I'm sufficiently surprised that he's still here. And as his furiously widened, red-glowing eyes survey my form sprawled among the debris, and then move on to his friend, who has fallen to the ground along the wall behind me, dirty with blood, then such a dangerous, ice-cold fury begins to flow from him that it freezes the blood in my veins. And although only the pale shine of the moon gives us some light, I can still clearly see the strained line of his broad shoulders, which makes him look quite like a predator ready to pounce. Even though for a fleeting moment it seems as if he wants to say something, he turns without a word in the direction of the mutants who are still carousing here, and then concentrates the poison that is surely raging inside him on them. And that's when I manage to observe what did he use so skillfully to free me from the bastard attacking me, and his makeshift weapon makes my eyes widen in an almost comical way. Because he lifts the traffic signpost with such ease, as if it were a twig, and with even more effortlessness and faster than that, he hits the devilish creatures leaping towards him with the piece of concrete at its end. And when I understand that this guy tore a fucking traffic sign out of the ground with his bare hands, in order to continue fighting with it, then, in addition to the surprise, something completely different reaches my nervous system, which is struggling to process the events. Because there is something quite animalistic in the way his body pulsates with power as he kills his enemies with the brutal strength and unstoppable momentum of a big cat. I feel a dull tingle in my stomach in an irrational way, and my mouth besomes dry in a fucked up manner as I stare at his strong figure rampaging and killing.

And scolding myself, I divert my attention from the massacare unfolding in front of me before I can even analyze how artistic I find the line of his broad back in the middle of the fucking bloodshed, as he beats down and degrades the I.M.L.s that come in front of him to pulp. Instead, I break out of my observation and get up on my feet again to hurry with quick steps to MacTavish, who is now lying limp at the bottom of the brick wall, immersed in the beneficial darkness of unconsciousness. My fingers carefully slip on his neck, and as I feel the slow, even pulse under the urgent searching of my energy, I calm down and turn back to our savior.

Riley takes care of all the mutants present with surprising speed, and then, when he has mutilated them all beyond recognition, he casually throws away his weapon and it lands with a loud crash on the street, which has now turned into total bloody chaos. It seems that he was able to release the accumulated tension, because when he turns his gaze to us again, he looks far more relaxed, and he strides towards us with confident steps, sizing up our little couple with his eyes. And when he stops next to me, he bends down without comment to throw his Scottish comrade on his back with a rather light movement, as if the well-built man was nothing more than a rag doll. And this is probably the case, if I only consider the way he got his previous weapon.

"Let's go. The others are waitin' for us at the edge of the combat zone." He says briefly, and even I'm surprised at how flat his deep voice sounds, despite the fervor with which he began the slaughter just minutes ago. And I'm not going to present him with an apt remark, but with a silent nod, I agree to his suggestion, because I also can't wait to finally be able to leave this fucking place. And if he hastened so enthusiastically to save us, then I won't talk back to him, thanks to whom my head is still in place. At least for a while, for sure.

The smoldering eyes of the masked man scan my face for a fleeting second, as if searching for something, but then, after a brief nod, he sets off in the direction of the road back, and starts running as fast as if he hadn't fought for half the night and wasn't weighed down by the one of his companions. And certainly, for a Hunter belonging to the SSS class, all of this doesn't pose any particular difficulties, yet for the first time, I'm amazed at the cold professionalism with which he handles this whole situation. After all, it occurs to me that this whole mission ended in a complete disaster, which no one could have predicted. The responsibility for this rests on his shoulders, despite the fact that even he can't predict the future, and even his super-sharp Hunter senses couldn't foresee the series of mishaps and sad accidents that would follow each other during the night. And the fact that we are now in the ruins of the deserted city, fleeing together towards the edge of the combat zone, is also only thanks to the immeasurable benevolence of fate.

We get back to the road we marched down at the beginning of our operation surprisingly quickly, and I'm filled with immeasurable gratitude that I can finally leave this godforsaken pile of ruins behind me, which only enriched me with a lot of new and quite pleasant experiences. Without a doubt, I overachieved the task imposed on me in a quite reckless manner, and I have no doubt that because of this, the man who continues to advance steadfastly in front of me will have an unsolicited word or two for me. But that's the least of the problems I experienced during the night, because his small punishment is dwarfed by what I saw. Because here something quite large had slipped by the wayside, which even Laswell's omniscient little information couldn't have avoided. And suddenly I remember the camera still merrily recording on my chest, and I thank my foresight and her clever procuring skills, because if Price doesn't see with his own eyes what MacTavish and I were able to experience in this goddamn place, then he won't believe it. If someone were to tell me that the I.H.L.s and the I.M.L.s united under their mutant-riding leader and surprised a team of trained Hunters and soldiers who had been through dozens of missions, then I would also offer that person a special medicine to stop imagining things. But this was different. This was reality. And nothing proves it better than the unconscious Scottish guy traveling on the back of the masked Hunter, who suffered this story firsthand. And the dull throbbing in my limbs, left behind by the long-gone adrenaline, is a very nice reminder that I, too, was lucky enough to admire this horror on several occasions. And although, for now, my brain can't dwell on this, I'm sure that I will have a thousand assumptions while watching the nice little recordings. Because we need to find an explanation for this.

When we finally arrive at the edge of the combat zone, and the waiting vans appear in front of me, my heart beating in my chest finally slows down a bit. The members of the Watcher team anxiously survey our arriving small group, and I look at the handful of survivors who remained from the original fifteen-person team that sneaked into the city with a similar gloom. And these four unfortunates have also seen better days, and even though all their limbs are intact at least, I know that as soon as we return to the base, I need to treat them immediately, because they have plenty of injuries to take care of. And this is another cruel stab in the festering wound caused by the events.

"Start the countdown when we leave. We don't leave it up to chance." Riley gives his first instructions to one of the soldiers left behind, who with a quick nod pulls out his remote control and then jumps into one of the vehicles with his companions. And I follow the masked man, who opens the back door of the other car with fast movements, and then, entering, lays his friend on the ground as carefully as if he were made of glass.

None of us waste any more time waiting, because the next step is to escape from here. We also get into the van, and after I find my seat, I lean forward and slide my hand on my patient's neck again, checking his vitals in a quick second, which flickers reassuringly steadily under the curious touch of my energy. Fortunately, I arrived in time to save him, and thanks to Laswell's pampering, I came here full enough to be able to save the man's life. But if I got there even a minute later, or Riley didn't come after us to help my stupid self stuck in the corner, things would be different now. And now, for the first time, I don't find it difficult to admit that even though I don't regret for a minute that I defied him, my dark little heart beats gratefully that nevertheless he rushed to our aid. Even if his efforts were more for his partner than for me.

And instead of brooding, I decide that it's time to regenerate the man with the mohawk a little, because by the time we get back, he should be alert enough to stand in as a witness to tell the story of what happened tonight. I gently place my palm on his neck and direct my force in even waves toward the unconscious MacTavish to breathe life into his exhausted body again. And when Riley throws himself down in front of me after the van takes off with full throttle, my troubled gaze meets his now familiar chocolate-colored eyes. And with an almost habitual sense, I decipher the thoughts swirling in them, which now pose even less of a challenge. Because in his stare, there is exactly the same grim restlessness that has settled in my head.

For a moment, an orange light paints his face as the bombs left behind explode in the distance, and none of us need to say a word to know that tonight is just the beginning of something terribly messed up.

22 notes · View notes

stardancerluv · 2 years

Text

Hello! I love writing. I try & proofread but I have dyslexia so there will be typos! (Sorry!) I also will always try and do justice to the concept of reader…who will always be Fem!Reader! There are some amazing writers, @mlmxreader @ronaldrx who are fantastic at Male Reader. I would not want to stomp on their territory! (Please don’t creep on their accounts!)

My writing is always for 18+ Even the fluffy ones since they may or may not reference issues that I don’t want someone 18 & younger to read.

I enjoyed Stranger Things since season 1. Steve & his friendship with Robin and Dustin…love it so much. I watched season 4 & I fell hard for Eddie Munson & Joseph Quinn!

So please… no drama! Comments…reblogs & feedback is always welcome! Finally, I do have a tag list..want on it? Just ask!! Thank you for reading!!!

I love what Joseph Quinn did with Eddie.

I decided to write my own version of Eddie that weaves in and out of the events of the season!

Blossoming of a Shy Violet 👈🏻 (click here to find current and track new chapter release!)

Summary

—-Eddie encounters the new girl in school after addressing his fellow students in the cafeteria. She is reluctant to get to know anyone. Can Eddie change her mind?

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader. It includes…fluffy, angsty, & smutty moments. 18 only….DNI if you are a minor.

Warning: includes (not limited to)… Esteem issues, bullying, murder referenced, underage drinking Virgin!Reader, oral m&f, PV sex, fingering, dom!Eddie (to a name a few)

Pumpkin and the Beast (click here for current and up to date chapter listings!)

——Bookworm, cutesy fem!reader gets into trouble at a party Eddie rescues her. It’s an established friendship, a few months in the making. Will explore what happens when opposites come together?

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader. It will include…fluff, angst, & perhaps smutty moments. 18 only….DNI if you are a minor.

Studying English Literature in college, I became a fan of Les Miserables. I enjoyed the various versions. I had never heard of the BBC!Version (till Joe) Enjolras was one of my favorite characters…viva revolution! I decided to write a story around him.

A Time to Love and To Fight 👈🏻 (click here to find current and track new chapter release!)

new chapters coming soon!!!

Summary

——Reader is her own girl. She has to take care of her household. By accident, she runs into Enjolras.

This story is Enjolras x Fem!Reader. This story now contains angst, fluff & smut!

Warning: French Revolution mind set (gonna try and capture this!) War themes, sickness, dated view of women!

I watched Catherine the Great & fell for Prince Paul. Growing up I heard many stories about Russia. This is why the story will be an AU of Prince Paul.

By the Light of the Silvery Moon (click here for new parts!)

—-Prince Paul has to deal with his mother & all of Russia. Its not long before he meets fem!reader & is engaged. Now he has to juggle that & the Russian court. Shortly, he weds his mother sends him away and he will not return the same Paul.

Warning: There will be fluff, angst, smut & supernatural elements! And lastly the reader is a fem!reader.

There Will Never Be Another You

Part One

Part Two

This is my attempt at writing a story for Grunauer. He truly deserved better then the cards he was dealt. Here I will try and do him justice.

Warning: There will be flufff…angst…smut and there may be some supernatural elements to it. Also will have a lot of dated thoughts on men & women. This will show how how be also will have a fem!reader. Enjoy!

All ❤️s, reblogs & feedback are welcome!

Hello! 👋🏻 Like I said above…Been a fan of Stranger Things since season 1. Saw Eddie and fell hard for him & Joe. Steve’s arch is by far one of my fav bits of the show. There are so many…so many amazing Steve fanfics out there.

Never felt the need write one. That said, I do enjoy Joe Keery’s work. Most recently…Fargo Season 5 & Marmalade! Can’t wait to see Finally Dawn. That said, Fargo Season 5…his character Gator Tillman…has me in a strangle hold.

The Past Follows Like a Shadow

(Link leads to the chapters! 👆🏻)

This story is an AU to Fargo Season 5.

Gator Tillman…had a childhood friend who turned into a girlfriend till his dad put the kibosh to it. That girl is back in town. What will that mean for Gator…what will it mean to her??

All ❤️s, reblogs & feedback are welcome!

P. S. In case…there is anyone still looking or wanting to read some Ewan McGregor fan-fiction & his amazing characters. Ewan McGregor Master List 👈🏻 Click here for all my Ewan McGregor Fan-fiction)

269 notes · View notes

bee-saucee · 3 months

Note

Hello, again~!

I've been doing all I can to not bombard you since last time, so now here I am. I love seeing men and people in general being able to show their ability to cook and nourish their loved ones through food. What does that look like for Shinso and Denki? Are they adventurous in their cooking? What kinds of dishes and foods are always in the fridge? Snacking? Who cooks the most? And when is a time that they would eat food outside the house? Anyhoo, hope you're doing well this first month of the year. And go bonkers sksk wherever your thought train takes you. ^-^

summary: ShinKami’s habits with eating, snacking, and cooking!

word count: 496

warnings: eating/food centered content

a/n: Hello again, friend! I’ll start with the important thing: This request is split up into three separate ones. I have a headcanons (this post), a short oneshot, and a longer oneshot. They have different vibes so I didn’t want anyone to not be able to read something or be put off because of one of these pieces. I’ll link the other posts at the end of this piece as well!

Anyway, I am so sorry I’m getting this back to you so late. I started my new semester at University when you sent this so I’ve been reeling trying to get back into the swing of things. That being said, I wanted to try and write something substantial for you to make up for the long wait. I’m also taking two writing courses the semester for fun so hopefully you see a bit of improvement here!

Hope you’re doing well. Thank you so so much for the request. I’d love to write something for you again.

I think that ShinKami has a lot of fun in the kitchen! When they met, they weren’t the savviest in the kitchen. They’re the type to know how to make maybe 3 dishes well but when they got together they decided to start on the journey of learning how to cook together! Cooking along with YouTube videos every night is a time that brings them together and they love cooking a homemade meal for date night

Even before learning how to cook for one another, Shinsou grew up on homemade soup when you’re sick so he always always makes Denki some chicken noodle soup when he’s sick and it never fails to make Denki cry a bit and get even snottier from the tears

Denki knows he’s not the best chef but he likes baking because the steps and measurements are a lot more clearly defined so he has an easier time with it. For just about every holiday, Denki will make some cookies for his loved ones. They come out lopsided and aren’t fully cooked a lot of the time but it's the thought that counts for these and he’s gotten better over the years.

From watching so much food content on YouTube to learn how to cook they have become hardcore sauce people

Shinsou is by far the more organized between the two of them so he keeps everything in the fridge in Pyrex tupperware they got as a housewarming gift from Aizawa. He also writes the date they made the food on masking tape he slaps on the tupperware because the thought of eating expired food makes his toes curl

They are busy pro heroes so while they like fresh food (especially Shinsou, see previous bullet point), they tend to keep rice ready to go for each night and they usually have pasta sometime during the week because they can never finish it (Denki swears you have to use the entire box of pasta each time. He’s working on scaling it back)

For snacks, I think that they always have peanut butter pretzels and apples in the house but they also love going to the store and trying out new snacks, especially those chips with with odd combos

They really do try to cook together but Shinsou will wind up picking up cooking by himself a bit more than Denki does because he tends to forget about things or tag along for hangouts last minute while Shinsou is a homebody

Shinkami also LOVES eating out! Of course for celebrations but they also love going out to a restaurant for date nights to slow down and get a chance to just talk. They’ll also stop at hole-in-the-wall type places near their work at the end of the day when they don’t have the energy to cook. They’re not super big takeout people because they hate the delivery fees but they will get it occasionally!

Lots of eating batter off the spoon when they bake

Check out the other posts based on this request: short oneshot | longer oneshot

or see my masterlist for more!

12 notes · View notes

shadowynn · 1 year

Note

Hello! I am another new follower person who absolutely binge-read both series of yours and liked them a lot so far! You write very well and it makes me curious as to if you perchance have any other Ateez ot8 x reader fics from mutuals or others that you’d recommend as well?

These kinds of fantasy aus are honestly so fun to read and write, so I can imagine with how well you portrayed them, you must have had some good inspiration for both stories

🌙

hi!!! sorry for the super late response, life just sort of hit, but thank you so much!! i really appreciate it! i absolutely love writing, mainly because it allows me to get my brainrot on paper and then i can reread it to my heart's content. and getting to share it with you is just like an added bonus! :)

and yes, i do! though i'm a bit lacking in getting around to reading them. the ones i would recommend off the top of my head are:

@mint-yooxgi: so i've been super behind in catching up with their works, but the first book of Hotel California was soo good and now as i'm writing this, i see they have new stuff since my hiatus and like, i'm so excited to check it out.

@hoonieversed: i have been meaning to read be the light and i haven't really gotten around to it, like a lot of things, but what i've seen, i'm super hyped! it sounds like such a cool concept!

@berryunho: the answer. super, super cool stuff if you're into cults. honestly such a unique concept and so very well written.

@the7thcrow: not all that glitters is gold. this is one that has been recommended to me a few times, and while i haven't quite gotten around to reading it yet, what little i did see was soo good. like, the writing is absolutely phenomenal. i'm just waiting for some time to binge read it because i know when i start, i'm not going to wanna stop.

also, i would totally recommend @hwaightme as well. i haven't quite gotten a chance to read their works, but the bit i've seen when it pops on my feed looks really good. none of is straight ot8 from what i know, but if you want some individual fluff in one-shot forms, give it a try!

i know there are definitely more, but these are just the first few that popped into my mind. so, if anyone knows anymore tag please! i wanna have some more recs too!

#winnie’s recs

77 notes · View notes

alatismeni-theitsa · 4 months

Note

Hi Ive been reading your blog (is it called a blog I'm not sure anyway) for a while now and I have to just say well Thank You. I've learned so much about Greek Culture and Greek Mythology from you then from a lot of other (so called) Western experts.

I relate quite a bit to how you feel about the misrepresentation and disrespect that Greek culture and specifically mythology and folklore have faced. I myself have experienced it although no where nearly as much as you have.

I'm a Malaysian specifically a Malaysian Chinese diaspora so I didn't know much about my culture and traditions. But when learning about Greek Mythology it ignited an interest in me to learn about cultures, traditions and folklore from around the world including my own. Which lead to me stumbling upon some of the more unflattering takes on Chinese Mythology and it's figures. The Netflix Journey to The West basically whitewashed and changed the ideas, storylines, and culturally significant aspects of a variety of different characters and the book and folklore as a whole which infuriates me especially since Journey To The West is one of the most important literary works in Chinese culture and folklore. Which I also grew up learning about.

I'm a Christian although I feel no connection or care for the religion at all I only follow it or at least pretend I do because of my parents. I respect any who choose to follow it and the religion itself. But it isn't what I choose to follow.

I feel more of a connection and understanding with the old Greek religion and more and Ive been praying to the Olympians and other ancient Greek deities for a while now. I've been trying to approach it the same way I'd like a foreigner to approach my own culture and traditions and religion. I've no qualms with them following traditional Chinese deities as long as they're respectful and willing to learn.

I've been approaching Hellenistic Polytheism with that view and mindset in mind. And Im grateful to learn from your blog especially since you're Greek and I want to be respectful to your culture and traditions and since you grew up with and are from the culture itself have a much better understanding of it than most of the self dubbed experts who aren't from the culture itself and have no interest in respecting it or learning about it.

Your blog has helped me clear up my existing misconceptions and misunderstandings about Greek mythology and helped me learn how to be respectful of your culture while I practice the religion and learn more about it. And to avoid upsetting anyone.

In conclusion thank you and I hope you don't mind me learning about your culture and practice the religion.

Hello! Thank you for your patience as I took a while to get to this message. For asks, please know that I'm not ignoring you. I'm just drowning in errands and have minimal energy all the time (chronic illnesses are a bitch)

I appreciate this message so much and each time I see it in my inbox it brings me joy. You can see in my FAQ section that I, like the overwhelming majority of Greeks, take no issue with foreigners engaging in our culture and following our ancient religion.

My tag #ancient Greek religion and #greek tradition may provide you with more information on how the gods were and are viewed, and the continuation of ancient customs and religious views to this day.

It makes me so happy that someone from the other side of the world took an interest in my culture and they're trying their best to be respectful. Bonus points if the person is familiar with this type of disrespect and they are with us in this fight 😄 I didn't know about all the changes in the Journey to the West and I'm grateful to see the Chinese perspective (which I didn't have the chance to be exposed to, so far).

"I'm a Christian although I feel no connection or care for the religion at all I only follow it or at least pretend I do because of my parents." That's at least 50% of the Greeks and we would also add "we go to the afterparties of religious festivals because of the FOOD" 😂 (and the music, and the dance. We know how to partyyy)

Oh, one small thing! It might just be a random typo, but I see this all the time from different people, so it's worth clarifying that it's "Hellenic polytheism" and not "Hellenistic Polytheism". "Hellenistic" describes one of the eras of Greek history, while "Hellenic" is the Greek word for "Greek" and it's a fit term to describe the polytheism.

May you be well, and I'm here if you have any questions!

#answered #xenoi being awesome #xenoi are often awesome (<3) but I have like a tag for stuff I really like :D

11 notes · View notes

vhvrs · 3 months

Note

HEY so i've been thinking about those tags you left on my rick siblings poll. rattling them around in my head, even. rick being the only child is good becauseeee... you get him feeling unwanted so to compensate he overasserts himself everywhere. excellent. and most people said that in the tags but then you said THIS

and like. "RUINED IT FOR HIS PARENTS"??? so. implied to be an unplanned pregnancy??? ...LIKE SUMMER??? i am about to be so unnormal about this. the similarities between them. Crazy . CRAZY

i do enjoy eldest daughter syndrome rick like you mentioned. definitely not because i have the same thing and am projecting hard......... but i can definitely see it. rick being that older sibling who cares so much about his little sibling(s), but also at the same time refusing to verbalize that feeling or express it healthily. and then... having that leak into his family relationships later in life when he's even LESS stable... AUGH AUGH AUGH 💥💥💥💥💥💥

i always had this thought in my mind that rick always wished he'd been closer to his sibling(s), or in the case of only child rick, wished he HAD them in the first place. and he kinda tries to emulate that specific sibling dynamic with morty and summer. (because really, the way he treats those two, especially in the early seasons is SO far removed from how anyone typically treats their grandkids. it's more like how an irresponsible older sibling would. or probably an uncle.) and obviously it doesn't WORK for a million different reasons. but Still

this ask... probably could've been its own post but i just really wanted you to know that your tags got me Thinking ejdksasksadkfvjsdc. ok that's all thank you for reading

HI HELLO this is a major delight to get so ty for that - im nodding my head in agreement soooo much

im not looking at them rn to make sure im not repeating myself but EXACTLY!! its easier to dissociate himself from things mattering whrn he wasnt wanted in the first place (airquotes around wanted he pulled away too long ago to dig into that). it works either way but again im biased on him being the oldest bc then i can see him caring abt his sibling(s) but with a growing resentment bc of his place among them... n then pretending later he never cared at all while overattaching to the only family he has left ghcgvbv

AND YES ive always thought he acts more like a big brother type at first, like he doesnt know how to handle the relationship? so he slips back into that old role instead? and its probably also why he acts the way he does esp to morty so unconsciously bc the power dynamics arent quite as intense? n why hes so distant from summer at first bc she essentially fills that role now. (or in the case of an only child rick, struggling to be a caricature of a brother/uncle n having that resentment for summer who DOES have someone)

i have not slept yet so i started rambling too bc i have thought. way too much abt ricks pre-canon experiences but greatly appreciate u getting this 👍🙇🙇🙇

#ferretwhomst #ive considered his parents also being young when they had him bc like. rick had beth young. beth had summer young. cycles cycles #n if so ugh getting raised by immature inexperienced parents who werent planning on being here explains a lot abt rick

7 notes · View notes

dxncingwithastrxnger · 1 year

Text

1. it’s been a secret for the longest time

A/N: Hey, guys!!! I've been working on this story for about a week or so, I'm so excited to finally be posting it!!! A couple of weeks ago, I became absolutely obsessed with the song inspiration for this and eventually my brain started applying it to Trilance and I'd say the result is absolutely beautiful. This is actually Chapter 1 out of at least 2 (though I might continue with more than that if people really want me to). Originally this was going to be much longer, it was actually going to include a whole smut scene which would've almost doubled the word count at least, maybe even fully doubled it, but my laptop needs to charge and I need to go to sleep, lmao. So you guys get part one now and part two sometime tomorrow!! Imma have to go back through and do some proofreading later on, but for the most part, it should be good to go!!! Happy reading!!!

Pairing(s): Tristan x Lancelot

Summary: For months now, Tristan and Lancelot have played a game of secret flirting, lustful longing, and maybe even something a bit more. But now that a certain date has finally been set, they're running out of time to decide what they want and Tristan decides he's going to finally make a move to advance things forward.

Tags: Aged up characters (somewhere around 21-24), alcohol, sexual tension, slight Guinevere bashing (💀💀), cheating/infidelity sorta (depends on how you look at it, I guess? But people have tried to come at me for not tagging cheating in the past, so, lmao)

Song Inspiration: Shameless By Camila Cabello (Highly recommend, btw)

Word Count: 4,883

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

Lancelot holds his breath as he waits. It's time. This is when he always shows up. Well, when they always show up, but he could care less about her. It's only him that he's concerned about. And there he is. Right on time. He watches from across the crowded club as two people come in through the front entrance. The flashing lights of the paparazzi that have followed them here were barely noticeable thanks to the heavy door blocking the club from the outside world quickly closing behind them.

A pinkette and a silverette make their way through the dancefloor slowly, stopping and talking to people, going by the bar to get their first round of drinks. Both of them are the closest thing to royalty you can get in their country, and in this club that means they are royalty as far as anyone is concerned. And they definitely live up to the title. A prince and a soon-to-be princess.

They're both beautiful. Stunning, even. They're shining stars, a picture perfect couple. The ultimate couple goals. Their life is perfect and nothing could be better. Everyone wants someone to love them like those two love each other. All anyone wants in life is to find someone who treats them as well as the prince treats the princess. That's all according to the world-wide media, anyways. But again, Lance doesn't care about anyone but the prince.

Finally, after a few minutes, they make their way over to where Lancelot is. Because of course. If they're the prince and princess, then he's a nobleman, his father being the royal advisor to the King himself, after all, if he were to continue his kingdom metaphors. He could even go so far as to say he was a family friend, though he's personally never spent much time with any of them.

"Lancelot, hello!" The princess addresses him kindly. "How have you been?"

He meets her eyes reluctantly. Not because he's afraid or intimidated by her, quite the opposite, in fact. There's just better places for him to look at right now. "I've been well, and you, your majesties?" He tacks on his little nickname for them with a playful grin.

She flushes slightly, but just shakes her head at him with a roll of her eyes while the prince beside her lets out a deep chuckle that absolutely lights Lance up inside. "We've been very well, isn't that right, my love?" The prince looks from Lance to the woman beside him as he speaks.

"Oh, yes, so much has happened recently. We must catch you up once we've finished making our round of greetings." The princess looked to be positively bursting with excitement. She then looks to the rest of his booth with curiosity and confusion, seeming to just now notice the lack of a brunette beside him. "Both of you. Where's your princess, Lance?" She questions, a mischievous spark in her eyes as she teases him with his own nickname for her.

Oh gods, don't let her hear you call her that. She would never let any of us live it down and then we'd have some real problems. He thinks with a mental sigh of exasperation. "She had a business call to attend to, I'm sure she'll be back by the time you two are." He states politely.

They both nod. "We'll be off then, see you in a few." Is called back at him as they turn and walk away. He shakes his head and turns back to the table, downing the rest of his drink in order to keep himself from staring at the Prince's backside as he walks away. He sets his glass back down and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and sighing as he sags in his seat.

The prince and princess. Tristan Liones and Isolde Connors. Son of Meliodas Taizman and daughter of Chester Connors. Chester is someone who started out as nothing more than average middle-class and managed to work his way up the ladder and into the livelihood of the rich after finding a way to create a new piece of technology that allows people to rediscover long lost memories.

Meliodas is the Mayor of the city of Liones, the capitol of our country and the biggest and most populated place in all of Britannia. He's married to the previous Mayor's daughter, so some like to say that he didn't rightfully earn his place as leader of the people, but the truth is, he had already started making a name for himself before he'd even met his current wife, through his connection with the Sin Committee.

They were a group of activists who came from out of town. They're an interesting mix of people. Each of them have their own individual cause that they wanted to focus on the most, so they'd be in charge of that topic, situation, idea, etc. But whenever there was a protest or a meeting or a vote, all the other members would gather to help out. There was 7 of them, so they each chose one of the seven deadly sins to use as a code name, which is also where their official group name came from. They gathered for all kinds of stuff. Protests, uprisings, voting polls, they made speeches and outed assholes who tried to make themselves look good. And they didn't just do it in Liones, they did it all over Britannia. Danafall, Edinburgh, Benwick. They were changemakers and they were damn good at it.

They were planning on eventually traveling out of Liones and continuing on, but then Meliodas met the mayor's daughter, Elizabeth Liones. And he decided to stay so that he could be with her, settle down and actually grow out some roots somewhere. And the rest of his group followed suit, each one finding some reason or another to stay here and build an official life for themselves. Eventually Meliodas and Elizabeth got married and not long after, Meliodas ran for Mayor as Elizabeth's father stepped down.

So, the prince. Yeah, Lance thinks it's a pretty fitting name, considering the whole damn city is named after his family. That choice of nickname definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that if told to, he would immediately fall to the man's feet and do whatever else was asked of him without hesitation. It definitely doesn't have to do with the fact that for months, the only constant thought in his mind is what Tristan's skin might feel like and how his lips might taste. And it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Lance has never wanted any man, any person, more than he's wanted Tristan Liones. Definitely not.

"What's up with you? Tired already?" A voice breaks him from his thoughts as the brunette slides into the booth next to him, having finished up with her phone call.

The only thing making me tired is you, Lance thinks wryly. "No, just lost in thought, thinking over some stuff." He replies, flashing her a quick half-hearted smile. "Isolde and Tristan stopped by to say hi. Isolde says she wants to tell us about some things. They should be back anytime now." He informs her.

"Oh good, it's been awhile since we've seen them, it'll be good to catch up." She states, smiling as she loops her right arm through Lance's left one and leans her head on his shoulder. Lance suppresses a sigh and places an arm around her shoulders out of obligation more than anything else, the girl under his arm sighing contentedly and snuggling closer. He grimaces, glad she can't currently see his face. Luckily, he's saved from having to linger too much on her, as Tristan and Isolde take that moment to appear once again.

"Oh, Guinevere, you're back! Lance said you would be back before we were, but I was worried when he mentioned it being a business call." Isolde admits to the woman at his side.

"Oh, it was nothing, everything is fine now." Guinevere waves her hand in front of her with an air of nonchalance.

Lance stops focusing on the women's interaction as he finally gives in to his urge that's almost instinct by now to look at Tristan. Tristan, who currently appears to be burning holes into Guinevere's arm with his eyes, glaring directly at where her arm is looped with his. Oh. Jealousy was not something seen often on the prince, but Lance is just now realizing that it is a very good look on him. Especially when it's about Lance himself.

Tristan must've felt Lance's eyes on him because his multi-colored eyes were suddenly meeting bright red. Lance's breath hitched. He was suddenly pinned by the hot spark in those green and blue irises of his. Something had changed, had finally shifted in this long game of theirs. He knew right then that tonight would be different. He didn't know how yet, but he was excited to find out, and he made sure to hold his realization and how he felt about it into his expression, with a hint of questioning. The silver-haired prince shook his head with a quick wink, just the tiniest of movements that no one would notice unless they were specifically looking for it. 'Not right now, you'll see.' Is what he was saying. Lance gave a nod in acknowledgement, another barely there movement, and smirked. Tristan is the only reason he really even continues to come here and he never disappoints, not that Lance has ever expected him to.

"So," Tristan speaks up then, clearly having paid enough attention to the other conversation happening to know when to interrupt. "Shall we head up to the lounge? It's so much easier to talk privately up there." He suggests, looking away from Lance and between the pinkette and brunette.

"Oh, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea." Guinevere says, already getting up with her drink in hand. Lance follows suit as Isolde chimes her own agreement and the four of them head up the club's spiral stairs, the prince and princess leading the way and Lance swears that Tristan is swaying his hips slightly. Gods, he'll be the absolute death of me, Lance groans inwardly.

They enter one of the VIP lounges, the one they enter completely empty except for the bartender at the bar in the back of the room. Lance orders a second drink as the other three go sit down and he walks over to join them soon ever. When he reaches the table that they chose, he freezes for a moment. The place that was picked to sit at was a round, single booth with two spaces to enter it. On Lance's right, he could easily sit down right next to Guinevere, just like he always does, just like he should. But next to Guinevere is Isolde and next to Isolde is Tristan with an open spot right next to him and for a split second, Lance genuinely considers turning to the left and sitting next to the prince. But he catches himself and dutifully takes the spot to the right.

As he slides into his seat and places an arm across the top of the booth behind Guinevere's head, he looks to Tristan with nothing but a deep longing, finding the same emotion reflected back at him. He swallows and turns away from him, afraid he might do something stupid if he continues looking at him in that moment.

"So, Isolde? What's all this exciting news you guys have to tell us?" Lance asks as he looks at her, an eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of his drink. He notices out of the corner of his eyes that Guinevere also turns to her as she leans into his side again. He forces himself not to shift away from her.

Isolde suddenly gives out a quiet squeal. "Okay! So," She looks at Tristan for a moment before turning back to them, Lance watching as the positions of the prince and princess mirror almost exactly Lance and Guinevere's. But he doesn't think much of it as Isolde continues talking. "Tristan and I have finally gotten a date for the wedding figured out!!" She exclaims happily, positively beaming. Guinevere gasps and shares in Isolde's excitement, the two women taking a moment to ramble together.

Tristan gives out a low chuckle and Lance turns to him again, something off about the sound that escaped him. The prince seems tense, his expression tight, and it becomes clear to the blonde that his chuckle wasn't born out of any kind of amusement, though it could easily appear that way to the two others in their party, as they were barely paying him any attention in this moment. Lance's brows furrow, a slight tilt of his head asking Tristan what his reaction was for. Yeah, so they figured out a date for the wedding already. Not ideal for Tristan, he was sure, but-

"Yes!" The fakest smile he had ever seen to date plasters itself across the prince's face. "August 28th." He states. "Of this year." And right there was the answer to Lance's question. Four months. Tristan and Isolde were getting married in four months. The public had only known them to be engaged for three.

"Ohhh, an end of summer wedding will be beautiful." Guinevere says in awe.

"Oh, won't it?" Isolde coos, her hands clasping in front of her.

"In just four months, huh? That's a lot sooner than I would've expected." Lance pipes up, his eyes not having left Tristan's at all yet.

"Yes, well, Isolde just couldn't wait any longer." Tristan states. "And apparently neither could my parents. August was supposed to be a completely unavailable month. But upon hearing that August was ideal over September or November, he completely canceled all matters of business for the month. That way we could have "the pick of the lot", he said." Tristan spat out, his words getting colder as he continued, and this time it didn't seem to be for a reason that he cared to hide.

Lance's suspicions were confirmed when Isolde spoke up next. "Oh, Tristan, cut your father some slack. I know you were excited for that trip, but your father just wants to help us in any way he can." She tells him, her voice on the verge of scolding. The tone made Lance almost scoff.

Tristan looked down at Isolde with a much softer expression than he had just a moment before and smiles at her. "You're right as always, I'm sorry. Forgive my thoughtlessness." And then the prince lays a soft kiss on the princess' lips, and the young nobleman has to look away quickly at the sight. Lance takes a long drink from his glass as he surveys the rest of the lounge outside of their booth, seeing it still empty as it was before. He's about to excuse himself for a moment, needing some air, when he's stopped from doing so.

"Isolde, do you mind if I talk to Lancelot privately for awhile? Most of the rest of your announcements have to do with the wedding more than anything else and Guinevere seems a lot more interested in those details than Lance does. Plus, I feel like I should finally get to know a bit more about the man. His father is practically my uncle and yet I feel I've barely spent any time with Lancelot himself." Tristan explains to his fiance, looking at her with casual questioning.

Isolde smiles at him, believing his explanation entirely. "Of course!" Suddenly she lights up even more. "Oh! Anne should be here soon, too! Guin, have you met Anne yet? You would absolutely love her!" Isolde gushes as she looks to the brunette.

Guinevere shakes her head. "Oh, I don't think so, but if she's a friend of yours, then I have no doubt that we'll get along." She states warmly. Isolde beams at her as Tristan exits the booth to let Isolde out and Lance follows his lead, letting Guinevere out. Isolde and Tristan share a peck on the lips and Lance turns to Guinevere to do the same, knowing she'll expect it.

"Take your time, don't rush, okay? I want you to have fun with your friends. We are here for that purpose, after all." Tristan points out to Isolde.

Isolde grins and throws her arms around him in a quick hug and for a moment, the smile on Tristan's face is back to being genuine, obvious affection on his face for the woman before him. Just not the kind that it's supposed to be. "Thank you. Have fun with your new friend, Trist." Isolde says before turning and looping her arm with Guinevere's, dragging her away as the brunette waves at Lance as she goes. Once the two of them have left the lounge and headed down the stairs to go meet up with Anne, Lance turns back to the booth, seeing Tristan already sitting once again. Lance sits back down as well, both of them choosing spots that allow them to be exactly across from each other.

They both stay silent for a few minutes, simply staring at each other, both seeming to be in quiet contemplation. Then Tristan breaks the silence first. "So, when are you and your fiancé going to make an announcement? The public doesn't even know that you two are engaged yet." He points out.

Ah, yes. His fiancé. Not by his own choice, of course. He doesn't have a single romantic notion towards her. In fact, he doesn't really have any platonic ones towards her, either. Guinevere is too arrogant for her own good and has way too big an ego, not to mention her whole I-know-everything attitude. It's all just a big turn off for him. But he's stuck with her. For now, at least. She's the person that his parents chose for him. Just like Isolde is the one that Tristan's parents chose for him. Some people have said recently that arranged marriages are way too old school and going out of style, but in reality, they're just as common now as they were 200 years ago.

"I'm not an actor like you, Prince Tristan." Lance tells him with a wry smile. "Guinevere is well aware that I'm not in love with her and she doesn't want to start up the wedding process until I do fall in love with her, because, apparently, she's absolutely certain that I will eventually."

Tristan tilts his head to the side slightly. "And how do you know that I'm acting with Isolde?" He asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him and he chuckles softly. "Considering you look at me in ways I've never once seen you even consider looking at her, I'd say you're more likely to be in love with me than with her."

Tristan's eyes widen as soon as the words leave his mouth and Lance's do, too, once his own words register in his mind. That right there was territory neither of had even dared go into before. There's never been any communication of feelings besides lust, passion, and curiosity. There couldn't be any romance between the two, could there? He was frozen, unsure how to recover from his own suggestion.

"Well. You certainly are observant, that's for sure." The silverette seems to have recovered faster than him, though his voice is much softer than it was before.

The topic switch definitely helps. Lance locks eyes with him, pouring every ounce of want he has for the man into his eyes without a single bit of shame or hesitation. "Yes, but you already know that, don't you?" Flashes run through his mind of all the times they've checked each other out or sent silent flirtations towards each other.

From the way Tristan bites his lip, he's thinking of the same thing. But instead of replying, he slides further into the booth, until he's in the middle of the half circle. He pats the spot right beside him. "Come over here." He orders.

Lance hesitates for a moment. Not because he doesn't want to be closer to Tristan. He knows that once he moves closer, it'll be the turning point of whatever this is between them. All of this is completely new. As he noticed before, he makes note of it again. Something is different about tonight. And he has a feeling he's about to find out exactly what it is. But he hangs back a little longer. It's like when a roller coaster reaches the top but then stops for just those extra few seconds, building up the anticipation so that you feel it just that tiniest bit more when the ride finally dips and takes the drop down. And it seems his decision was the right one.

When Lance doesn't immediately come over to him, Tristan bows his head down slightly, then looks back up at Lance through his lashes, an almost shy look on his face. "Please?" The single word comes out as half whisper, half purr and Lance suddenly feels the need to adjust himself. Fuck.

Lance slides across the booth until he's right beside the prince, only about an inch of space between their bodies. He's tense now. He doesn't know what to do with himself, where to put his hands. Eventually he decides to just place them on the table in front of him. He left his drink across the table, so he just lays his hands flat on the dark wood. Then Tristan places his hand on top of Lance's and he startles slightly, sucking in a deep breath at the contact. He can hear Tristan's breath hitch beside him and he knows that he must've felt it, too. The bolt of lightning that struck through to the very core of his being as soon as their skin connected. But Tristan continues despite it.

"Just take a second to relax, okay?" He says casually in a low voice. And then he starts moving his hand across Lance's wrist and over his arm slowly, causing Lance to do the opposite of relax. It felt like electricity was coursing throughout his entire arm, spreading out from where Tristan's hand was. He watches with wide eyes as the silverette's hand reaches the crook of his elbow and starts making it's way up.

"Relax, remember?" Is whispered into his ear as he feels the slight brush of hair against his cheek. He closes his eyes as his whole body shudders.

He tries his best to follow the instruction, urging his body to relax against the seat. Then Tristan changes the position of his hand slightly, pressing the tips of his nails against Lance's shirt and then lightly dragging them against the skin over his collarbone and Lance melts. His head falls back against the top of the cushion behind him and bites his lip as the other man's palm presses flat to the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, sliding up the side of his neck and over his collarbone, until his hand finally stops, resting gently against Lance's cheek. The electricity has followed his hands path, leaving a pleasant burn in it's wake, every part of him that's been touched feeling so warm.

He slowly opens his eyes as he sits back up, looking at Tristan. The prince has a look of pure awe on his face as he stares at him, as if something Lance just did has absolutely amazed him. Lance reaches up and threads his fingers into some of the hair at the top of the prince's head and runs them through it gently. Tristan's eyes flutter closed and he hums, a pleased sound. Once his fingers reach the tips of his long hair, he brings his hand back up and mimics what Tristan did, his hand curved around his cheek. When Tristan opens his eyes again, the blue and green in them is barely visible with how wide his pupils are blown.

"Lance." He whispers, his voice shaking slightly now. "I don't exactly know what it is going on between us. What all these feelings are and what they'll lead to. I know that I want you. I want you more than I've ever wanted anybody or anything in my entire life. But," He brings his free hand up to wrap around the wrist of the hand Lance has on his face, tracing small circles into his skin with his thumb. "I feel like it's something more than that. Like even if I finally have you, I won't be able to let you go." He admits, giving Lance that same shy look as before, but with a hint of fear in it this time. Fear of what, he wasn't sure.

Lance swallows before answering. "I think I know what you mean." Is all he whispers back. He has his own theories of what it all was, but he isn't sure he's ready to confront that just yet. Tristan runs his eyes over Lance's face a few times, like he's searching for something. Then they lock eyes once again and Lance suddenly realizes that it's not Tristan's voice that's shaky. Tristan himself is trembling. Before Lance can question him, he speaks up again.

"I don't know what it is," A fierce determination sparks in his eyes and Lance is both surprised and entranced by it. "But I want to." He says just barely above his breath. "I want to-" He cuts himself off, like he's afraid of what was about to come out of his mouth.

"What is it?" Lance asks him. "What do you want to do?" He brings his other hand up to cup Tristan's other cheek gently, looking at him pleadingly. Somewhere deep down, he knew exactly what the prince wanted, because he wanted it, too, but he needed to hear him say it first.

Tristan leans into his touch and lets out a sound close to a whimper. "I want to find out together. You and I. We could do it, you know. Because you were right. Of course you were. Isolde has never been anything more than a sister to me, a friend. I hate the idea of marrying her and everything that's meant to come with it. Tomorrow, I can break things off with her. Tell my parents that there's someone else. I don't care how mad they get at me. And then you and I, we can take this however far it goes, as long as you do the same. We can make our own choices for once instead of just always doing what everyone else wants us to." His own eyes are pleading now and the fear is even more evident. Lance realizes that the fear is of rejection. That his proposal will be brushed off and turned away from.

"And what would your choice be, Prince Tristan?" He asks, his own voice trembling.

"As of right now, my choice would be you, Sir Lancelot." Tristan says with certainty.

"What if I don't want that?" Lance asks him. Not because he's considering no. Not at all. Only because he's curious as to what the alternative is.

Tristan leans in slightly, taking his hand from Lance's wrist and reaching up to run a thumb down his temple and over his cheekbone before his hand lands on his jaw and stays there. "Then we won't continue this any further. I couldn't handle doing anything more if you don't want the same as me. But it's your choice. Kiss me right now and I'm yours. Walk away from me right now and we'll never be this close again, everything we've been doing will stop."

Lance looks at him. The answer was clear as soon as the idea left Tristan's pretty pink lips. Leave Guinevere and the stupid arranged marriage behind in order to pursue Tristan and see where the feelings between them go? It wasn't even a question. Lance gives him a grin. "Stupid of you to think that I could ever walk away from you." He tells him. And then Lance is crashing his lips against Tristan's.

~*~

A/N: So, how is it so far??? Did you guys like it?? Cause I honestly loved writing this. I love these boys sm and this AU was really fun to come up with. You guys will get the rest tomorrow!!! Please, lemme know all your thoughts on this!!! I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Love y'all 💜💜💜

~*~

Tags:

@darkelf-7

[Lemme know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this story and anything related to it!!!]

29 notes · View notes