star girl

🚨on ao3 now under same handle🚨

[stargirlygirl]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ⟶ about me

⭑.ᐟ welcome to my blog

𝐛𝐧𝐡𝐚 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ao3 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

☆ inbox is always open ⟶ required reading

tag navigation

#★’s works = my works #★’s recs = my recommendations #★’s thoughts = silly fic thoughts #★'s answered = answered asks

do not plagiarise, copy, repost, or translate my works (incl. putting my works into ai) ⟶ 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

images are not mine

[stargirlygirl]

hunter!zayne is up now on ao3

-hello, it's been a hot minute😵‍💫but i'm back (momentarily) to announce that my hunter!zayne series is now officially on ao3, so PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT!!

preview for chapter 3:

With a click, the snowy world beyond is unveiled. The sun is high overhead, opaque light enveloping the icy landscape. If not for his dark hair, you mightn’t have recognised Shen in his long, white silk robes. Despite being the traditional wedding colour for grooms of the Jin dynasty, white has reverted to its association with funerals.

Your lips purse in disapproval as you gather your vibrant dress and descend the few stairs down to your betrothed. He extends his hand for you to grasp, which you do so with a hushed thanks. His other arm is concealed behind his back. You soon find out why.

“I intended to give these to you yesterday after the feast. I hope they are to your liking.” Shen reveals a medium-sized bow and a quiver filled with a dozen arrows. Your lips part, but no sound escapes them. What kind of wedding gift is this¹?

He explains, “I carved the bow from the wood of our endemic trees. It will be rather useful when we go hunting.” Now, you regain your composure.

“H-hunting?” You start. “I don’t-I don’t even know how to use one of these! A long sword would have been more appropriate if your taste in gifts is purely weaponry.” His grip tightens on the handle, knuckles comparable to the snow’s radiance. You grimace at your own comment.

“What I meant was that I didn’t expect such a gift. But the craftsmanship is exquisite. I can tell you spent much time on it,” you clarify. His face remains impassive as he processes your sudden change of heart. Then, he hands the gift to Tao Tao, who stands off to the side.

Returning his attention to you, he says, “I shall teach you archery then. You know how to ride a horse, yes?”

You sigh and admit reluctantly, “I could use a refresher.” Shen inclines his head in acknowledgement before gesturing to your soldiers who have gathered. On their shoulders, they carry a fine sedan chair. Taking hold of your hand once more, your betrothed leads you to the open side and aids you in climbing inside. Then, he follows the procession carrying you to the ceremonial hall.

The next few hours couldn’t pass any slower. The ritual meal is tedious. Your teacher had drilled it into you before you left for Jilin. First, the lungs are placed to the east, offered up to the gods, then eaten. Rinse your mouths. Spine to the east. Offered. Rinse your mouths twice. Over and over until the dipping sauces remain.

Then, you and Shen brew jasmine tea and present it to Beile Li, his wife, and Yishiha, who takes the place of your father. They approve (for it would be rude not to), and finally, you’re led back outside with your husband.

He assists you with hopping into the sedan chair again. But this time, the soldiers stop halfway on the journey to your chambers. You turn around and peer out the curtain, only to see that Shen has left you. Beginning to panic, you poke your head out of the side opening and ask the soldiers why they’ve stopped.

The one at the front, on the left, responds, “Master Li will perform a customary ritual, so you must wait here, Li Taitai².” That address rings clear in your mind. No longer are you an imperial princess. You are the wife of a Jurchen. Where did it all go wrong?

Pushing the front curtain to the side, you see your husband crossing the snow to stand in line with your chair. He’s some distance away, but there’s no mistaking the great bow in his hand. It’s nearly as tall as he is, and a worn quiver is thrown over his shoulder. Drawing an arrow, he moves the bow in front of him and aligns the arrow. Then, he raises the bow and points it at you. How is this marriage ritual?!

Every instinct within screams at you to object, to scream, to do something! But you can’t, for you’ve been frozen by his trained stare. With one eye shut, the other rests on his target. First, you, but his gaze soon shifts to the edge of your chair. Nothing else exists but you and him. Shen’s chest rises, as does yours. A deep inhale. Were his eyes always green? You could have sworn they were brown.

The arrow is released. It soars through the air, whistling before it’s lodged into the sedan chair’s wood right next to your head. You flinch from the force with which the arrow hits the chair. Recovering, you notice Shen’s eyes fixed on you. There’s a minute pinch to his brow. Concern? You breathe heavily despite your inactivity, a million questions whirling like snowflakes in your mind.

Your husband lowers his bow and nods. The soldiers move forward.

When you are delivered to your chambers, Shen is right there, helping you out of the chair. Once your feet touch the ground, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and stumble back. He reaches out to catch you, but you find your footing and swat his hands away.

Angrily, you exclaim, “What was that?!”

He seems to be immune to your emotion, for he merely shakes his head and says calmly, “It’s a wedding tradition.”

“What is a wedding tradition?! To try and kill your wife?!” You postulate.

Shen elaborates with that same level-headedness, “It’s a wedding tradition for the groom to shoot an arrow at the bride’s sedan chair. We believe it wards off evil spirits.” He has to be pulling your leg. But the seriousness of his features tells you that he isn’t.

Letting it go, you exhale, “Anything else you believe in that I should know about?” Again, he shakes his head. Exhaustion sets in likely from the fright of your life. You begin ascending the stairs up to the building’s entrance, eager to get out of the cold, if only for a few hours.

This day isn’t over yet, so you must rest while you can.

footnotes:

Ming wedding gifts consisted of riches and silks, while Manchurian gifts were weapons, commonly a bow and arrow. Archery was a desirable quality in the perfect Manchurian girl (https://pt.shenyun.org/explore/view/article/e/e_j1fOHg6-c/manchurian-ladies-lifestyle.html).

After marriage in China, the wife traditionally doesn’t take the husband’s last name.Li taitai roughly translates to Mrs Li, but is akin to Wife of Li, not Li Y/f/n [your first name] (https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/2gbtrt/postmarriage_names_for_women_in_chinese_cultures/)

also just wanna take a moment to thank @heartyluv for letting me rant about this a while back! thanks so much, jay, for your support and for giving me this idea of duty as the main conflict keeping our star couple apart!

this idea has definitely changed and evolved with my research, but nonetheless, i'm so exicted to share it with you all!!

also tagging @sugurusmoon! hi ena bby! i remember you said you wanted me to tag you in my hunter!zayne stuff so here you go!!! miss you sm and i'm doing good hbu??💋💋💋

[stargirlygirl]

hunter!zayne is up now on ao3

-hello, it's been a hot minute😵‍💫but i'm back (momentarily) to announce that my hunter!zayne series is now officially on ao3, so PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT!!

preview for chapter 3:

With a click, the snowy world beyond is unveiled. The sun is high overhead, opaque light enveloping the icy landscape. If not for his dark hair, you mightn’t have recognised Shen in his long, white silk robes. Despite being the traditional wedding colour for grooms of the Jin dynasty, white has reverted to its association with funerals.

Your lips purse in disapproval as you gather your vibrant dress and descend the few stairs down to your betrothed. He extends his hand for you to grasp, which you do so with a hushed thanks. His other arm is concealed behind his back. You soon find out why.

“I intended to give these to you yesterday after the feast. I hope they are to your liking.” Shen reveals a medium-sized bow and a quiver filled with a dozen arrows. Your lips part, but no sound escapes them. What kind of wedding gift is this¹?

He explains, “I carved the bow from the wood of our endemic trees. It will be rather useful when we go hunting.” Now, you regain your composure.

“H-hunting?” You start. “I don’t-I don’t even know how to use one of these! A long sword would have been more appropriate if your taste in gifts is purely weaponry.” His grip tightens on the handle, knuckles comparable to the snow’s radiance. You grimace at your own comment.

“What I meant was that I didn’t expect such a gift. But the craftsmanship is exquisite. I can tell you spent much time on it,” you clarify. His face remains impassive as he processes your sudden change of heart. Then, he hands the gift to Tao Tao, who stands off to the side.

Returning his attention to you, he says, “I shall teach you archery then. You know how to ride a horse, yes?”

You sigh and admit reluctantly, “I could use a refresher.” Shen inclines his head in acknowledgement before gesturing to your soldiers who have gathered. On their shoulders, they carry a fine sedan chair. Taking hold of your hand once more, your betrothed leads you to the open side and aids you in climbing inside. Then, he follows the procession carrying you to the ceremonial hall.

The next few hours couldn’t pass any slower. The ritual meal is tedious. Your teacher had drilled it into you before you left for Jilin. First, the lungs are placed to the east, offered up to the gods, then eaten. Rinse your mouths. Spine to the east. Offered. Rinse your mouths twice. Over and over until the dipping sauces remain.

Then, you and Shen brew jasmine tea and present it to Beile Li, his wife, and Yishiha, who takes the place of your father. They approve (for it would be rude not to), and finally, you’re led back outside with your husband.

He assists you with hopping into the sedan chair again. But this time, the soldiers stop halfway on the journey to your chambers. You turn around and peer out the curtain, only to see that Shen has left you. Beginning to panic, you poke your head out of the side opening and ask the soldiers why they’ve stopped.

The one at the front, on the left, responds, “Master Li will perform a customary ritual, so you must wait here, Li Taitai².” That address rings clear in your mind. No longer are you an imperial princess. You are the wife of a Jurchen. Where did it all go wrong?

Pushing the front curtain to the side, you see your husband crossing the snow to stand in line with your chair. He’s some distance away, but there’s no mistaking the great bow in his hand. It’s nearly as tall as he is, and a worn quiver is thrown over his shoulder. Drawing an arrow, he moves the bow in front of him and aligns the arrow. Then, he raises the bow and points it at you. How is this marriage ritual?!

Every instinct within screams at you to object, to scream, to do something! But you can’t, for you’ve been frozen by his trained stare. With one eye shut, the other rests on his target. First, you, but his gaze soon shifts to the edge of your chair. Nothing else exists but you and him. Shen’s chest rises, as does yours. A deep inhale. Were his eyes always green? You could have sworn they were brown.

The arrow is released. It soars through the air, whistling before it’s lodged into the sedan chair’s wood right next to your head. You flinch from the force with which the arrow hits the chair. Recovering, you notice Shen’s eyes fixed on you. There’s a minute pinch to his brow. Concern? You breathe heavily despite your inactivity, a million questions whirling like snowflakes in your mind.

Your husband lowers his bow and nods. The soldiers move forward.

When you are delivered to your chambers, Shen is right there, helping you out of the chair. Once your feet touch the ground, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and stumble back. He reaches out to catch you, but you find your footing and swat his hands away.

Angrily, you exclaim, “What was that?!”

He seems to be immune to your emotion, for he merely shakes his head and says calmly, “It’s a wedding tradition.”

“What is a wedding tradition?! To try and kill your wife?!” You postulate.

Shen elaborates with that same level-headedness, “It’s a wedding tradition for the groom to shoot an arrow at the bride’s sedan chair. We believe it wards off evil spirits.” He has to be pulling your leg. But the seriousness of his features tells you that he isn’t.

Letting it go, you exhale, “Anything else you believe in that I should know about?” Again, he shakes his head. Exhaustion sets in likely from the fright of your life. You begin ascending the stairs up to the building’s entrance, eager to get out of the cold, if only for a few hours.

This day isn’t over yet, so you must rest while you can.

footnotes:

Ming wedding gifts consisted of riches and silks, while Manchurian gifts were weapons, commonly a bow and arrow. Archery was a desirable quality in the perfect Manchurian girl (https://pt.shenyun.org/explore/view/article/e/e_j1fOHg6-c/manchurian-ladies-lifestyle.html).

After marriage in China, the wife traditionally doesn’t take the husband’s last name.Li taitai roughly translates to Mrs Li, but is akin to Wife of Li, not Li Y/f/n [your first name] (https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/2gbtrt/postmarriage_names_for_women_in_chinese_cultures/)

also just wanna take a moment to thank @heartyluv for letting me rant about this a while back! thanks so much, jay, for your support and for giving me this idea of duty as the main conflict keeping our star couple apart!

this idea has definitely changed and evolved with my research, but nonetheless, i'm so exicted to share it with you all!!

also tagging @sugurusmoon! hi ena bby! i remember you said you wanted me to tag you in my hunter!zayne stuff so here you go!!! miss you sm and i'm doing good hbu??💋💋💋

[stargirlygirl]

hunter!zayne is up now on ao3

-hello, it's been a hot minute😵‍💫but i'm back (momentarily) to announce that my hunter!zayne series is now officially on ao3, so PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT!!

preview for chapter 3:

With a click, the snowy world beyond is unveiled. The sun is high overhead, opaque light enveloping the icy landscape. If not for his dark hair, you mightn’t have recognised Shen in his long, white silk robes. Despite being the traditional wedding colour for grooms of the Jin dynasty, white has reverted to its association with funerals.

Your lips purse in disapproval as you gather your vibrant dress and descend the few stairs down to your betrothed. He extends his hand for you to grasp, which you do so with a hushed thanks. His other arm is concealed behind his back. You soon find out why.

“I intended to give these to you yesterday after the feast. I hope they are to your liking.” Shen reveals a medium-sized bow and a quiver filled with a dozen arrows. Your lips part, but no sound escapes them. What kind of wedding gift is this¹?

He explains, “I carved the bow from the wood of our endemic trees. It will be rather useful when we go hunting.” Now, you regain your composure.

“H-hunting?” You start. “I don’t-I don’t even know how to use one of these! A long sword would have been more appropriate if your taste in gifts is purely weaponry.” His grip tightens on the handle, knuckles comparable to the snow’s radiance. You grimace at your own comment.

“What I meant was that I didn’t expect such a gift. But the craftsmanship is exquisite. I can tell you spent much time on it,” you clarify. His face remains impassive as he processes your sudden change of heart. Then, he hands the gift to Tao Tao, who stands off to the side.

Returning his attention to you, he says, “I shall teach you archery then. You know how to ride a horse, yes?”

You sigh and admit reluctantly, “I could use a refresher.” Shen inclines his head in acknowledgement before gesturing to your soldiers who have gathered. On their shoulders, they carry a fine sedan chair. Taking hold of your hand once more, your betrothed leads you to the open side and aids you in climbing inside. Then, he follows the procession carrying you to the ceremonial hall.

The next few hours couldn’t pass any slower. The ritual meal is tedious. Your teacher had drilled it into you before you left for Jilin. First, the lungs are placed to the east, offered up to the gods, then eaten. Rinse your mouths. Spine to the east. Offered. Rinse your mouths twice. Over and over until the dipping sauces remain.

Then, you and Shen brew jasmine tea and present it to Beile Li, his wife, and Yishiha, who takes the place of your father. They approve (for it would be rude not to), and finally, you’re led back outside with your husband.

He assists you with hopping into the sedan chair again. But this time, the soldiers stop halfway on the journey to your chambers. You turn around and peer out the curtain, only to see that Shen has left you. Beginning to panic, you poke your head out of the side opening and ask the soldiers why they’ve stopped.

The one at the front, on the left, responds, “Master Li will perform a customary ritual, so you must wait here, Li Taitai².” That address rings clear in your mind. No longer are you an imperial princess. You are the wife of a Jurchen. Where did it all go wrong?

Pushing the front curtain to the side, you see your husband crossing the snow to stand in line with your chair. He’s some distance away, but there’s no mistaking the great bow in his hand. It’s nearly as tall as he is, and a worn quiver is thrown over his shoulder. Drawing an arrow, he moves the bow in front of him and aligns the arrow. Then, he raises the bow and points it at you. How is this marriage ritual?!

Every instinct within screams at you to object, to scream, to do something! But you can’t, for you’ve been frozen by his trained stare. With one eye shut, the other rests on his target. First, you, but his gaze soon shifts to the edge of your chair. Nothing else exists but you and him. Shen’s chest rises, as does yours. A deep inhale. Were his eyes always green? You could have sworn they were brown.

The arrow is released. It soars through the air, whistling before it’s lodged into the sedan chair’s wood right next to your head. You flinch from the force with which the arrow hits the chair. Recovering, you notice Shen’s eyes fixed on you. There’s a minute pinch to his brow. Concern? You breathe heavily despite your inactivity, a million questions whirling like snowflakes in your mind.

Your husband lowers his bow and nods. The soldiers move forward.

When you are delivered to your chambers, Shen is right there, helping you out of the chair. Once your feet touch the ground, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and stumble back. He reaches out to catch you, but you find your footing and swat his hands away.

Angrily, you exclaim, “What was that?!”

He seems to be immune to your emotion, for he merely shakes his head and says calmly, “It’s a wedding tradition.”

“What is a wedding tradition?! To try and kill your wife?!” You postulate.

Shen elaborates with that same level-headedness, “It’s a wedding tradition for the groom to shoot an arrow at the bride’s sedan chair. We believe it wards off evil spirits.” He has to be pulling your leg. But the seriousness of his features tells you that he isn’t.

Letting it go, you exhale, “Anything else you believe in that I should know about?” Again, he shakes his head. Exhaustion sets in likely from the fright of your life. You begin ascending the stairs up to the building’s entrance, eager to get out of the cold, if only for a few hours.

This day isn’t over yet, so you must rest while you can.

footnotes:

Ming wedding gifts consisted of riches and silks, while Manchurian gifts were weapons, commonly a bow and arrow. Archery was a desirable quality in the perfect Manchurian girl (https://pt.shenyun.org/explore/view/article/e/e_j1fOHg6-c/manchurian-ladies-lifestyle.html).

After marriage in China, the wife traditionally doesn’t take the husband’s last name.Li taitai roughly translates to Mrs Li, but is akin to Wife of Li, not Li Y/f/n [your first name] (https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/2gbtrt/postmarriage_names_for_women_in_chinese_cultures/)

also just wanna take a moment to thank @heartyluv for letting me rant about this a while back! thanks so much, jay, for your support and for giving me this idea of duty as the main conflict keeping our star couple apart!

this idea has definitely changed and evolved with my research, but nonetheless, i'm so exicted to share it with you all!!

also tagging @sugurusmoon! hi ena bby! i remember you said you wanted me to tag you in my hunter!zayne stuff so here you go!!! miss you sm and i'm doing good hbu??💋💋💋

[stargirlygirl]

hunter!zayne is up now on ao3

-hello, it's been a hot minute😵‍💫but i'm back (momentarily) to announce that my hunter!zayne series is now officially on ao3, so PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT!!

preview for chapter 3:

With a click, the snowy world beyond is unveiled. The sun is high overhead, opaque light enveloping the icy landscape. If not for his dark hair, you mightn’t have recognised Shen in his long, white silk robes. Despite being the traditional wedding colour for grooms of the Jin dynasty, white has reverted to its association with funerals.

Your lips purse in disapproval as you gather your vibrant dress and descend the few stairs down to your betrothed. He extends his hand for you to grasp, which you do so with a hushed thanks. His other arm is concealed behind his back. You soon find out why.

“I intended to give these to you yesterday after the feast. I hope they are to your liking.” Shen reveals a medium-sized bow and a quiver filled with a dozen arrows. Your lips part, but no sound escapes them. What kind of wedding gift is this¹?

He explains, “I carved the bow from the wood of our endemic trees. It will be rather useful when we go hunting.” Now, you regain your composure.

“H-hunting?” You start. “I don’t-I don’t even know how to use one of these! A long sword would have been more appropriate if your taste in gifts is purely weaponry.” His grip tightens on the handle, knuckles comparable to the snow’s radiance. You grimace at your own comment.

“What I meant was that I didn’t expect such a gift. But the craftsmanship is exquisite. I can tell you spent much time on it,” you clarify. His face remains impassive as he processes your sudden change of heart. Then, he hands the gift to Tao Tao, who stands off to the side.

Returning his attention to you, he says, “I shall teach you archery then. You know how to ride a horse, yes?”

You sigh and admit reluctantly, “I could use a refresher.” Shen inclines his head in acknowledgement before gesturing to your soldiers who have gathered. On their shoulders, they carry a fine sedan chair. Taking hold of your hand once more, your betrothed leads you to the open side and aids you in climbing inside. Then, he follows the procession carrying you to the ceremonial hall.

The next few hours couldn’t pass any slower. The ritual meal is tedious. Your teacher had drilled it into you before you left for Jilin. First, the lungs are placed to the east, offered up to the gods, then eaten. Rinse your mouths. Spine to the east. Offered. Rinse your mouths twice. Over and over until the dipping sauces remain.

Then, you and Shen brew jasmine tea and present it to Beile Li, his wife, and Yishiha, who takes the place of your father. They approve (for it would be rude not to), and finally, you’re led back outside with your husband.

He assists you with hopping into the sedan chair again. But this time, the soldiers stop halfway on the journey to your chambers. You turn around and peer out the curtain, only to see that Shen has left you. Beginning to panic, you poke your head out of the side opening and ask the soldiers why they’ve stopped.

The one at the front, on the left, responds, “Master Li will perform a customary ritual, so you must wait here, Li Taitai².” That address rings clear in your mind. No longer are you an imperial princess. You are the wife of a Jurchen. Where did it all go wrong?

Pushing the front curtain to the side, you see your husband crossing the snow to stand in line with your chair. He’s some distance away, but there’s no mistaking the great bow in his hand. It’s nearly as tall as he is, and a worn quiver is thrown over his shoulder. Drawing an arrow, he moves the bow in front of him and aligns the arrow. Then, he raises the bow and points it at you. How is this marriage ritual?!

Every instinct within screams at you to object, to scream, to do something! But you can’t, for you’ve been frozen by his trained stare. With one eye shut, the other rests on his target. First, you, but his gaze soon shifts to the edge of your chair. Nothing else exists but you and him. Shen’s chest rises, as does yours. A deep inhale. Were his eyes always green? You could have sworn they were brown.

The arrow is released. It soars through the air, whistling before it’s lodged into the sedan chair’s wood right next to your head. You flinch from the force with which the arrow hits the chair. Recovering, you notice Shen’s eyes fixed on you. There’s a minute pinch to his brow. Concern? You breathe heavily despite your inactivity, a million questions whirling like snowflakes in your mind.

Your husband lowers his bow and nods. The soldiers move forward.

When you are delivered to your chambers, Shen is right there, helping you out of the chair. Once your feet touch the ground, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and stumble back. He reaches out to catch you, but you find your footing and swat his hands away.

Angrily, you exclaim, “What was that?!”

He seems to be immune to your emotion, for he merely shakes his head and says calmly, “It’s a wedding tradition.”

“What is a wedding tradition?! To try and kill your wife?!” You postulate.

Shen elaborates with that same level-headedness, “It’s a wedding tradition for the groom to shoot an arrow at the bride’s sedan chair. We believe it wards off evil spirits.” He has to be pulling your leg. But the seriousness of his features tells you that he isn’t.

Letting it go, you exhale, “Anything else you believe in that I should know about?” Again, he shakes his head. Exhaustion sets in likely from the fright of your life. You begin ascending the stairs up to the building’s entrance, eager to get out of the cold, if only for a few hours.

This day isn’t over yet, so you must rest while you can.

footnotes:

Ming wedding gifts consisted of riches and silks, while Manchurian gifts were weapons, commonly a bow and arrow. Archery was a desirable quality in the perfect Manchurian girl (https://pt.shenyun.org/explore/view/article/e/e_j1fOHg6-c/manchurian-ladies-lifestyle.html).

After marriage in China, the wife traditionally doesn’t take the husband’s last name.Li taitai roughly translates to Mrs Li, but is akin to Wife of Li, not Li Y/f/n [your first name] (https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/2gbtrt/postmarriage_names_for_women_in_chinese_cultures/)

also just wanna take a moment to thank @heartyluv for letting me rant about this a while back! thanks so much, jay, for your support and for giving me this idea of duty as the main conflict keeping our star couple apart!

this idea has definitely changed and evolved with my research, but nonetheless, i'm so exicted to share it with you all!!

also tagging @sugurusmoon! hi ena bby! i remember you said you wanted me to tag you in my hunter!zayne stuff so here you go!!! miss you sm and i'm doing good hbu??💋💋💋

[stargirlygirl]

hunter!zayne is up now on ao3

-hello, it's been a hot minute😵‍💫but i'm back (momentarily) to announce that my hunter!zayne series is now officially on ao3, so PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT!!

preview for chapter 3:

With a click, the snowy world beyond is unveiled. The sun is high overhead, opaque light enveloping the icy landscape. If not for his dark hair, you mightn’t have recognised Shen in his long, white silk robes. Despite being the traditional wedding colour for grooms of the Jin dynasty, white has reverted to its association with funerals.

Your lips purse in disapproval as you gather your vibrant dress and descend the few stairs down to your betrothed. He extends his hand for you to grasp, which you do so with a hushed thanks. His other arm is concealed behind his back. You soon find out why.

“I intended to give these to you yesterday after the feast. I hope they are to your liking.” Shen reveals a medium-sized bow and a quiver filled with a dozen arrows. Your lips part, but no sound escapes them. What kind of wedding gift is this¹?

He explains, “I carved the bow from the wood of our endemic trees. It will be rather useful when we go hunting.” Now, you regain your composure.

“H-hunting?” You start. “I don’t-I don’t even know how to use one of these! A long sword would have been more appropriate if your taste in gifts is purely weaponry.” His grip tightens on the handle, knuckles comparable to the snow’s radiance. You grimace at your own comment.

“What I meant was that I didn’t expect such a gift. But the craftsmanship is exquisite. I can tell you spent much time on it,” you clarify. His face remains impassive as he processes your sudden change of heart. Then, he hands the gift to Tao Tao, who stands off to the side.

Returning his attention to you, he says, “I shall teach you archery then. You know how to ride a horse, yes?”

You sigh and admit reluctantly, “I could use a refresher.” Shen inclines his head in acknowledgement before gesturing to your soldiers who have gathered. On their shoulders, they carry a fine sedan chair. Taking hold of your hand once more, your betrothed leads you to the open side and aids you in climbing inside. Then, he follows the procession carrying you to the ceremonial hall.

The next few hours couldn’t pass any slower. The ritual meal is tedious. Your teacher had drilled it into you before you left for Jilin. First, the lungs are placed to the east, offered up to the gods, then eaten. Rinse your mouths. Spine to the east. Offered. Rinse your mouths twice. Over and over until the dipping sauces remain.

Then, you and Shen brew jasmine tea and present it to Beile Li, his wife, and Yishiha, who takes the place of your father. They approve (for it would be rude not to), and finally, you’re led back outside with your husband.

He assists you with hopping into the sedan chair again. But this time, the soldiers stop halfway on the journey to your chambers. You turn around and peer out the curtain, only to see that Shen has left you. Beginning to panic, you poke your head out of the side opening and ask the soldiers why they’ve stopped.

The one at the front, on the left, responds, “Master Li will perform a customary ritual, so you must wait here, Li Taitai².” That address rings clear in your mind. No longer are you an imperial princess. You are the wife of a Jurchen. Where did it all go wrong?

Pushing the front curtain to the side, you see your husband crossing the snow to stand in line with your chair. He’s some distance away, but there’s no mistaking the great bow in his hand. It’s nearly as tall as he is, and a worn quiver is thrown over his shoulder. Drawing an arrow, he moves the bow in front of him and aligns the arrow. Then, he raises the bow and points it at you. How is this marriage ritual?!

Every instinct within screams at you to object, to scream, to do something! But you can’t, for you’ve been frozen by his trained stare. With one eye shut, the other rests on his target. First, you, but his gaze soon shifts to the edge of your chair. Nothing else exists but you and him. Shen’s chest rises, as does yours. A deep inhale. Were his eyes always green? You could have sworn they were brown.

The arrow is released. It soars through the air, whistling before it’s lodged into the sedan chair’s wood right next to your head. You flinch from the force with which the arrow hits the chair. Recovering, you notice Shen’s eyes fixed on you. There’s a minute pinch to his brow. Concern? You breathe heavily despite your inactivity, a million questions whirling like snowflakes in your mind.

Your husband lowers his bow and nods. The soldiers move forward.

When you are delivered to your chambers, Shen is right there, helping you out of the chair. Once your feet touch the ground, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and stumble back. He reaches out to catch you, but you find your footing and swat his hands away.

Angrily, you exclaim, “What was that?!”

He seems to be immune to your emotion, for he merely shakes his head and says calmly, “It’s a wedding tradition.”

“What is a wedding tradition?! To try and kill your wife?!” You postulate.

Shen elaborates with that same level-headedness, “It’s a wedding tradition for the groom to shoot an arrow at the bride’s sedan chair. We believe it wards off evil spirits.” He has to be pulling your leg. But the seriousness of his features tells you that he isn’t.

Letting it go, you exhale, “Anything else you believe in that I should know about?” Again, he shakes his head. Exhaustion sets in likely from the fright of your life. You begin ascending the stairs up to the building’s entrance, eager to get out of the cold, if only for a few hours.

This day isn’t over yet, so you must rest while you can.

footnotes:

Ming wedding gifts consisted of riches and silks, while Manchurian gifts were weapons, commonly a bow and arrow. Archery was a desirable quality in the perfect Manchurian girl (https://pt.shenyun.org/explore/view/article/e/e_j1fOHg6-c/manchurian-ladies-lifestyle.html).

After marriage in China, the wife traditionally doesn’t take the husband’s last name.Li taitai roughly translates to Mrs Li, but is akin to Wife of Li, not Li Y/f/n [your first name] (https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/2gbtrt/postmarriage_names_for_women_in_chinese_cultures/)

also just wanna take a moment to thank @heartyluv for letting me rant about this a while back! thanks so much, jay, for your support and for giving me this idea of duty as the main conflict keeping our star couple apart!

this idea has definitely changed and evolved with my research, but nonetheless, i'm so exicted to share it with you all!!

also tagging @sugurusmoon! hi ena bby! i remember you said you wanted me to tag you in my hunter!zayne stuff so here you go!!! miss you sm and i'm doing good hbu??💋💋💋

[stargirlygirl]

and now i'm going to rb this about five times so you don't miss it😏

[stargirlygirl]

hunter!zayne is up now on ao3

-hello, it's been a hot minute😵‍💫but i'm back (momentarily) to announce that my hunter!zayne series is now officially on ao3, so PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT!!

preview for chapter 3:

With a click, the snowy world beyond is unveiled. The sun is high overhead, opaque light enveloping the icy landscape. If not for his dark hair, you mightn’t have recognised Shen in his long, white silk robes. Despite being the traditional wedding colour for grooms of the Jin dynasty, white has reverted to its association with funerals.

Your lips purse in disapproval as you gather your vibrant dress and descend the few stairs down to your betrothed. He extends his hand for you to grasp, which you do so with a hushed thanks. His other arm is concealed behind his back. You soon find out why.

“I intended to give these to you yesterday after the feast. I hope they are to your liking.” Shen reveals a medium-sized bow and a quiver filled with a dozen arrows. Your lips part, but no sound escapes them. What kind of wedding gift is this¹?

He explains, “I carved the bow from the wood of our endemic trees. It will be rather useful when we go hunting.” Now, you regain your composure.

“H-hunting?” You start. “I don’t-I don’t even know how to use one of these! A long sword would have been more appropriate if your taste in gifts is purely weaponry.” His grip tightens on the handle, knuckles comparable to the snow’s radiance. You grimace at your own comment.

“What I meant was that I didn’t expect such a gift. But the craftsmanship is exquisite. I can tell you spent much time on it,” you clarify. His face remains impassive as he processes your sudden change of heart. Then, he hands the gift to Tao Tao, who stands off to the side.

Returning his attention to you, he says, “I shall teach you archery then. You know how to ride a horse, yes?”

You sigh and admit reluctantly, “I could use a refresher.” Shen inclines his head in acknowledgement before gesturing to your soldiers who have gathered. On their shoulders, they carry a fine sedan chair. Taking hold of your hand once more, your betrothed leads you to the open side and aids you in climbing inside. Then, he follows the procession carrying you to the ceremonial hall.

The next few hours couldn’t pass any slower. The ritual meal is tedious. Your teacher had drilled it into you before you left for Jilin. First, the lungs are placed to the east, offered up to the gods, then eaten. Rinse your mouths. Spine to the east. Offered. Rinse your mouths twice. Over and over until the dipping sauces remain.

Then, you and Shen brew jasmine tea and present it to Beile Li, his wife, and Yishiha, who takes the place of your father. They approve (for it would be rude not to), and finally, you’re led back outside with your husband.

He assists you with hopping into the sedan chair again. But this time, the soldiers stop halfway on the journey to your chambers. You turn around and peer out the curtain, only to see that Shen has left you. Beginning to panic, you poke your head out of the side opening and ask the soldiers why they’ve stopped.

The one at the front, on the left, responds, “Master Li will perform a customary ritual, so you must wait here, Li Taitai².” That address rings clear in your mind. No longer are you an imperial princess. You are the wife of a Jurchen. Where did it all go wrong?

Pushing the front curtain to the side, you see your husband crossing the snow to stand in line with your chair. He’s some distance away, but there’s no mistaking the great bow in his hand. It’s nearly as tall as he is, and a worn quiver is thrown over his shoulder. Drawing an arrow, he moves the bow in front of him and aligns the arrow. Then, he raises the bow and points it at you. How is this marriage ritual?!

Every instinct within screams at you to object, to scream, to do something! But you can’t, for you’ve been frozen by his trained stare. With one eye shut, the other rests on his target. First, you, but his gaze soon shifts to the edge of your chair. Nothing else exists but you and him. Shen’s chest rises, as does yours. A deep inhale. Were his eyes always green? You could have sworn they were brown.

The arrow is released. It soars through the air, whistling before it’s lodged into the sedan chair’s wood right next to your head. You flinch from the force with which the arrow hits the chair. Recovering, you notice Shen’s eyes fixed on you. There’s a minute pinch to his brow. Concern? You breathe heavily despite your inactivity, a million questions whirling like snowflakes in your mind.

Your husband lowers his bow and nods. The soldiers move forward.

When you are delivered to your chambers, Shen is right there, helping you out of the chair. Once your feet touch the ground, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and stumble back. He reaches out to catch you, but you find your footing and swat his hands away.

Angrily, you exclaim, “What was that?!”

He seems to be immune to your emotion, for he merely shakes his head and says calmly, “It’s a wedding tradition.”

“What is a wedding tradition?! To try and kill your wife?!” You postulate.

Shen elaborates with that same level-headedness, “It’s a wedding tradition for the groom to shoot an arrow at the bride’s sedan chair. We believe it wards off evil spirits.” He has to be pulling your leg. But the seriousness of his features tells you that he isn’t.

Letting it go, you exhale, “Anything else you believe in that I should know about?” Again, he shakes his head. Exhaustion sets in likely from the fright of your life. You begin ascending the stairs up to the building’s entrance, eager to get out of the cold, if only for a few hours.

This day isn’t over yet, so you must rest while you can.

footnotes:

Ming wedding gifts consisted of riches and silks, while Manchurian gifts were weapons, commonly a bow and arrow. Archery was a desirable quality in the perfect Manchurian girl (https://pt.shenyun.org/explore/view/article/e/e_j1fOHg6-c/manchurian-ladies-lifestyle.html).

After marriage in China, the wife traditionally doesn’t take the husband’s last name.Li taitai roughly translates to Mrs Li, but is akin to Wife of Li, not Li Y/f/n [your first name] (https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/2gbtrt/postmarriage_names_for_women_in_chinese_cultures/)

also just wanna take a moment to thank @heartyluv for letting me rant about this a while back! thanks so much, jay, for your support and for giving me this idea of duty as the main conflict keeping our star couple apart!

this idea has definitely changed and evolved with my research, but nonetheless, i'm so exicted to share it with you all!!

also tagging @sugurusmoon! hi ena bby! i remember you said you wanted me to tag you in my hunter!zayne stuff so here you go!!! miss you sm and i'm doing good hbu??💋💋💋

[starryeyed-knight]

wounds

your frustration with xavier always disappearing without telling you comes to a breaking point when he shows up injured at your door.

★pairing: xavier x reader ★wc: 2.9k ★prompt: "If I kiss you right now, will you hate me?” – they kiss them anyway ★content: angsty with happy resolution, pre-relationship, first kiss. vaguely described injury treatment (brief mentions of cuts, blood, bruises). internal monologuing, arguing, yearning, xavier's innate elusiveness on full display here. ★a/n: I really tried to cut down the word count, I know it's supposed to be drabbles for this fic celebration but apparently I had a lot to write in this one. I'm rusty writing, so this may not be my best work, but trying to get back into it!!

The soft hiss that falls from Xavier's lips when you wipe the antiseptic across the wound on his back is far too satisfying. Anger has you stewing behind him, adding a bit more pressure to your otherwise gentle care, but buried underneath that is a stronger current of fear.

It still lingers from how your heart dropped when you answered the quiet knock on your door, almost hesitant in its delivery. You had expected to see the takeout you'd been waiting on for half an hour, not the longer-awaited Hunter who'd disappeared for three days this time. Especially not with cuts and a nasty bruise littered across his face, blood still drying on his tattered uniform.

It's not the first time Xavier had run off to do something ridiculously dangerous alone, and you always feared each time he disappeared wouldn't be the last until it was.

And he never told you where he was going, what he was doing, when he did it. The only clue you'd get that he may have gone off to do some crazy, reckless stunt would be how he turned away from you after strenuous Wanderer fights at work. His shoulders would tense a fraction, and you knew he was hiding something again—a wince, a frown, whatever would clue you in to him keeping an injury a secret.

By now, you'd learned secrets were second nature to Xavier, shadows that clung to him like a second skin. His caginess, intentional or not, had frustrated you to no end when you'd first become partners. But somehow, you'd grown closer despite it—especially when you realized just how he had managed to fit into every corner of your life.

He became the coworker you'd share the last pack of instant noodles with during a short, silent lunch before rushing off to the next mission together. The neighbor who texted you to ask if you ever needed anything when he stopped at the convenience store, and left a bag of pain patches outside your door even though you said you didn't, just because you complained of a back ache the day before.

It took a while longer to realize those versions of Xavier consolidated into one, into a friend. And it took even longer—sleepless nights spent stargazing on his balcony, rainy afternoons reading side by side on your sofa, feeding stray cats and texting every day and the softest of smiles on his face, just for you—to realize his presence had become precious enough that he was something even more.

It's those feelings, buried down deep but growing with each passing day spent by his side, that have you restless, agitated as you tend to his injuries. They're not life-threatening, but bad enough to have brought him to your doorstep, sheepish and seeking your help.

Or maybe he just couldn't reach the cut across his shoulder blades. The shirt of his Hunter uniform with the gaping hole across the back hangs off the armrest of your sofa, and you watch the muscles in his upper back tense and relax with each swipe of the antiseptic across the wound, luckily more shallow than how bad it looked on first glance.

Or perhaps he was just too tired to deal with it himself. Every few minutes he'd start to tilt forward, and you'd grab his shoulder and tug him back, jerking him awake from his battle-exhausted state.

Or he was just…Xavier. Who knew what went through his mind, he sure wouldn't tell you.

So, yeah, you're fucking pissed. And you know he knows you are. He's one of the most clever men you know, and never lets anybody know just how much.

You know he feels your anger, a storm brewing behind him, and he keeps his mouth shut. Offering nothing, even as he's stripped of half his clothes and letting you care for him now, in a vulnerable state he'd always hidden before.

You don't want excuses, but you want…something.

"Stupid."

It's the first word that finally comes from your lips as you throw the bloody bundle in your hands onto the coffee table, picking up the bandage to wrap around him.

His shoulders tense, and you imagine the wince he's hiding again—not at any pain this time, but at the acidity in your tone.

"You always do this. You just run off." Without me. "And you get into some stupid fucking trouble, and you don't even tell me. And now—" You cut off with a bitter laugh, loosening the bandage a little when his back become stiff with how tight you were wrapping it. "Now it suits you to show up on my doorstep, scaring me half to death—"

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

Your response flies too fast, too hot with anger, and he falls silent again. You almost feel bad about it, but you're at your limit.

Here was the man who had become your dearest friend, your closest confidant, the person you cared for more than anything. His skin was bare under your shaking hands, tended to with all the soft fondness you carried in your heart for him, and it still felt like you didn't know him at all.

"If you don't trust me, just say so."

It may be irrational. It's fed only by weeks, months of this building restlessness.

But it also has Xavier whipping his head around, eyes wide with disbelief and something startlingly close to betrayal that you'd ever even suggest that. He glances over your face, mouth parted before pressing into a deep frown. His brows furrow as he shakes his head.

"I do trust you," he says low, quiet. Satisfaction and adrenaline surges through your veins when you hear a hint of frustration in his gentle tone when he insists, imploring you to understand, "I came to you."

The way he says it, it sounds so simple. It sounds like you could never misread his intentions, that the same need that thrummed under your skin may just haunt him as well.

Until the moment would pass, and you'd lie in bed tonight, realizing he never truly told you anything at all.

"Yeah, this time," you argue back, emboldened by how you finally had gotten a reaction from him, hooked into the argument you'd been itching to have once relief that he was not on death's door washed over you. You shake your head, tying off the bandage. "What about all the other times you didn't? Or all the future times you won't?"

This time, you actually catch a glimpse of the grimace flickering across his face right before he turns away again.

It stings more than it should. Your emotions are running too high, your heart dangerously close to your sleeve, and you can't do this anymore.

"There." You throw the supplies haphazardly back into the first aid kit, slamming it shut and pushing yourself to your feet in the same harsh breath. "You know where the door is."

Spinning on your heels, you brush past where he still sits, frozen on your couch. But the moment you're almost out of his range, almost escaping the tight hold he already has around your heart, squeezing it with every time he reminds you just how much he's out of your reach—

He reaches first.

His fingers brush against your inner wrist. Just the softest of touches, hesitant and wanting.

Or maybe that's just the thud of your heart in your chest again, the way that you stop so easily just at the promise that he might say wait.

He doesn't. But his rough fingertips, callused from a practiced touch on his sword's hilt, brush along where your pulse skips and flutters beneath your skin, and you curse yourself for looking back.

Xavier's eyes are wide, dangerously close to pleading. The blue of them is even more striking with the purple bruise that blooms along his cheekbone, his elegant brow upturned, pulling on the Steri-Strip you'd placed across the left one.

You sigh, the sound softer than you would've liked, fluttering instead of as aggravated as you still feel. But the irritation ebbs and fades under the soft intent of his gaze, giving way to the fear that had gripped you when he'd slumped against you in your doorway, with a tired smile of relief the moment he saw you.

"What?" you ask, exhaustion overcoming you at all the energy it took to stay mad at him.

Xavier swallows thickly. His thumb brushes along your veins, pressing gently into your pulse, as if he was counting the beats in time with his slow, even breaths.

You only realize after another beat that he was forcing them to be that slow, that even. There's something restless in him now, a twitch in his other hand, lips forming empty words before he finally utters two.

"Don't go."

Just two words. Two words that make your world tilt sideways, make everything slide away except for his eyes, the cut on his lower lip, the bandage on the hollow of his throat when his Adam's apple bobs again.

"You can't—" you start, stop. Lick your lips and try not to shiver when his eyes catch on the movement. "You can't do this."

To me, you let hang unsaid, stilling the air between you. You can't keep doing this to me.

It's thought with desperation, imploring the man who had turned from a coworker you once begrudged working aside, to the one who fell asleep against your shoulder on the train ride home. The neighbor who you had cursed for the odd culinary explosion whenever you least expected it, to the one who you exchanged keys with in order to take care of each other's plants when one of you was away on a long solo mission.

You're already at the end of your anger. You just feel defeated, the tension bleeding out from you the longer he looks at you like that.

Soft, so soft. Like nothing else existed except for his thumb pressed into your palm, bits of his blood dried under your fingernails, his very being burrowing under your skin. The smell of antiseptic and copper still lingers in the room as it feels smaller, and smaller, like he was real and here and not a star so far away, fleeting and never yours.

"You're—" Your fingers wrap around his own wrist, his eyes widening at the insistent pressure of your grip, the frustration that continues to bleed from you, pouring from you now, unable to stop it. "You're reckless, and it scares me, Xavier. I'm your partner, and if you really think I can't keep up then fine. I mean, you're dead wrong, but—"

You're rambling now, holding him tight, hardly registering when his other hand brushes against your waist. Steadying you as you sway in place, the air too thin, and you hold onto his shoulder, leaning down so he could see you, see just the kind of madness he drove you to.

"But I'm your friend, too." You blink rapidly, clinging to him. "And I'm—I—"

The words suddenly fail you, and you're left panting, holding on too tight to make up for his slackening grip in his surprise. But even as you say nothing, it says far too much, and you watch as his eyes widen a fraction, lips popping open in sudden clarity, his hand flexing on your waist.

Here you were, all your cards out in the open, while he kept all his own so close to his chest, you forgot he had any to begin with.

You nearly pull away in embarrassment before his grip tightens. Xavier's jaw sets in determination one second, and the next he's softening immeasurably, looking at you in wonder, the kind of awe you've felt deep in your own bones.

"If I kiss you right now," he breathes, "will you hate me?"

Your jaw drops.

Closes.

Opens again.

You want to laugh at the sheer audacity, to shake him and give him a piece of your mind. You want to fall right into his lap and kiss him senseless, to let him know how much he drives you crazy, to hold him and never let go and you want—god, you want—

Xavier tugs you into him, and you stumble into his waiting embrace, the warmth of his mouth enveloping yours and stealing the breath from your lungs with a fierce, searing kiss.

"Mm," you make a sound in surprise that he immediately swallows, hand cupping the back of your head. He cradles it so gently, sinking back into your sofa as he pulls you into him, and you melt.

His hair is as soft as it looks, slipping through your fingers, and you grip it as tightly as you seize this moment. You claim his split lip as your frustration bleeds into the kiss, in the scrape of your teeth against his lip until you taste fresh copper in your mouth.

His answering sound is soft, desperate. His large, warm palm glides up your back, gently pressing between your shoulder blades until you're melded together.

"I'm still—" You breathe heavily, only managing to pull back for mere seconds before he chases you, or you dive back in yourself, jealous of the very air he tries to breathe. "—still mad at you, you bastard—"

"I know," Xavier pants, licking into your mouth, and you moan softly. He holds you tighter, leaning you down to lay on the couch, then follows with the press of his body against yours. The weight of him offers a sense of safety, grounding you to this moment as real, as finally happening, and your heart races. "I know, I'm sorry. I know."

He pulls back for a gasp, his eyes meeting yours. His expression flickers, darkens with a sadness you can't decipher, and then he kisses you once, softly.

It has your breath stuttering when he kisses you again, with a gentle pressure, and your eyes are half-lidded to admire the soft furrow of his brow, his eyes falling shut as he's lost in you, in the determination to make up for this in the only way he can think of. To steal the words coworker and neighbor, partner and friend from your mouth and only leaving his name, only him, here now with you.

"Xavier."

He whines at the sound of it, deepening into a groan when you turn your face away. His frustration at the situation he'd created, at himself is palpable in the kisses he peppers down your jaw and neck.

"I won't let you not talk about it," you assert between heavy breaths, unfocused vision hovering over the bloody gauze left to be disposed on your coffee table. "I care about you too much not to."

Xavier sighs, face burying into your neck. His own quick breathing is mismatched with yours, your chests pressed together, rapidly rising and falling until they come into sync. His tense body slowly relaxes, and he presses soft kisses to the nape of your neck, small apologies.

"I know," he repeats. You can hear more unspoken, the silent struggle in whatever he's never said to you, what he's trying to say now. "It's…hard for me."

You stay silent, rubbing your hands up and down his bare back, careful to avoid the injuries you treated. When it becomes clear he can't find how to put it into words, you offer, "To let somebody in?"

Xavier burrows further into you, melting into you so easily. He hedges, then continues even quieter, "To remember that somebody wants to be let in."

Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you hold him tighter.

"Then I'll remind you." You nudge him again, and he lifts his head, blue eyes round and unsure, letting you cup his round cheeks. "But you have to meet me halfway here. I can't keep doing this on my own."

His eyes flicker away in shame, and you gently shake his face from side to side, drawing his attention back to you.

"I want to," he breathes the admission, forehead resting against yours. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, down to your jaw. He glances over your face like he's taking you in, the fluffy strands of his hair brush against your cheek when he nuzzles into you. "I want that somebody to be you. I don't want anybody else."

Your heart stutters in your chest at the eager admission, the open vulnerability on his face, and you sigh.

"Then we start small." You tap his nose, and he blinks, wide-eyed and adorable. The look melts into something so fond when you huff out a laugh, and your cheeks warm. "How about you start sending me your location before you jump into something unbelievably stupid and death-defying, hm?"

Xavier laughs too, soft and under his breath. The sound washes over you, easing the remaining tension from your bones.

"I think I can manage that," he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours again, and you laugh until he swallows the sound, smiling into your lips.

"Mm," you hum into him, pinching his cheek fondly. "You say that now, but I won't tolerate any slacking." You sigh, pretending to think about it. "I'll just have to punish you if you don't comply."

His eyebrow arches, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, so sly and matching a dark glint in his eyes, one that makes your heart skip a beat. "Promise?"

You laugh again, unable to stop smiling even as he swoops back in to kiss you senseless, until you're tangled together, breathing heavy and giddy from the slow realization that you were finally doing this.

For so long you'd admired him from afar. And now that he's up close he's so soft, so real in your arms.

And you may have to work on these issues, but you'll work on them together.

taglist: comment here if you want to be added! blank blogs will be blocked ⭐️Xavier fics: @santaluna @itsmysmut @onigiriinthecorner @inzayneforaj @biblioth-que @needvbunni @whimsicalcup @otome-house @wonys-won @xaviersfluffybunny @a1ienmush @studvnoodle @kodzuminx 💖all fics: @frostbitten-cherry @asiatic-apple @heartyluv @floatinginaer @sweetcalebb @princessofenkanomiya @deepspacebunnieblue @cherryartchaos @kireeen @stargirlygirl @draftbeerbibi @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @slovesyouuu @ineffabl-y @grlyeetswrld @toelady @asiaticapple @aenishas @lamogliedizayne @plasticcardholder @colonelkaboom @plzdonutpercieveme @syncaleb @dailydoseofanimeawesome @wooasecret @glitterykingdomangel @meofary @rchltruly @calistaxoxo24 @jadeloverxd @blushofeve @starlightyearning @mylifedoesntexist @madamecorbie @raendarkfaerie @twilightsmissingfur @xiaprint @potato-vagina

and this obviously isn't halloween related at all but HAPPY HALLOWEEEEN!!!!!

[stargirlygirl]

tw- he's eating you out while you're menstruating (ain't no other way to say it, i'm afraid)

apparently, female dragons don't have periods. you didn't know that until dragon!sylus was holding you by the shoulders, bright eyes searching for the source of your pain. when you told him you were fine, that it was just your period, his confusion was perplexing.

"what do you mean you don't know what a period is?!" you exclaim, struggling in his arms. your dragon strides over to your bed with you strung over his shoulder. he's deemed a physical examination necessary.

placing you down, your back against warm furs and thick quilts, dragon!sylus brushes your hair back with his fingertips.

he cups your face and says, "if you won't tell me where you're hurting, then i'll find it myself." his smirk makes your insides feel mushy, or maybe that's the constant physiological punch to your gut.

"i told you, i'm on my period! you know...!" he doesn't know. he really doesn't, for if he did, he wouldn't be holding your forearm and analysing your complexion like it might provide him with the answer he seeks. leaning down, the pink tip of his tongue darts across your skin.

"sylus!" you squeak.

he comments, "your temperature is hotter than usual." another lick, this time to your inner elbow. "i can smell your blood." it's almost a growl.

you pout. "that's because i'm menstruating!" dragon!sylus raises your arm and pushes it back, your fingers tickling your hair as more of your flesh is exposed. his nose trails down your upper arm, steadily approaching your armpit.

"no, don't—!" he licks your sweat. "sylus! stop it right now!" his brows draw together, and his lips part, tongue sliding against the roof of his mouth, truly sampling your flavour. perhaps he found something he didn't like. that's why you shouldn't go around licking people's sweat.

and you're about to tell him as much when he asks in a baffled tone, "what is this menstruation you speak of?" the beginning of a long explanation.

glittering jewels cast golden light over your dragon as he shifts about your body, intently listening while sniffing here and licking there. upon mentioning your cramps, his palm comes to your lower tummy.

"here?" he asks, curiously. you nod and relax into the heat of his hand. dragon!sylus observes your reaction carefully, decoding everything from your sleepy smile to your chest rising with deep breaths.

"what do you need from me, sweetie?" shifting his hand to the side, your dragon lies his head on your tummy. he gazes up at you, watching as your head lifts and you look down.

"you're heavy."

"tell me something i don't know." he smirks.

you grumble, "i just did!" his laugh rumbles in his chest, vibrating on pelvis. you squirm beneath, suddenly uncomfortable with how close he is to your... self-made blood bath. the cloth you have soaking up the mess must be drenched by now, seeing as you've had it on for hours.

"i need to clean up," you mutter when dragon!sylus stubbornly refuses to get off. instead, he grabs your hips firmly and pulls you back to him.

"i can do that." you don't have any fight left in you to stop your dearest from flinging your legs over his shoulders and prying at your coverings.

you groan as he unravels the sticky cloth, "it's gross, though. i'm really gross right now. i don't want you to see." you attempt to grab his claws, but he shakes off your frail hands.

the air is cool, but his breath is unbelievably hot, ghosting over your bloody mess. he licks his lips.

"sylus, i'm warning you. you can't ingest that. it'll make you sick!" he shakes his head in disbelief as he chuckles, finding your enthusiasm particularly amusing.

composing himself, smug smirk on his full lips, he drawls, "oh, really?" you nod frantically, hoping to convince him of the dangers that come with sharing blood.

dragon!sylus goes on, "well, i'll have you know that this is how dragons care for their wounded—"

"but i'm not wounded!" you interrupt.

he dismisses your sentiment with, "let me take care of you, kitten. this is the way i know best." without further ado, he dives in. your dragon starts at the perimeters, catching all the blood that's stained your inner thighs. his tongue laps closer to your bloody slit, causing your hips to buck.

one cocky glance from him, and your face is burning up. you lie back and brace for impact. his nose bumps your swollen clit. you draw in a sharp breath. everything down there feels so sensitive, near painful. you want to enjoy this, but what if—

"sylus!!" you nearly scream as his thick tongue glides up through your folds. gazing down, you notice the blood glistening on his lips, which are curved into a big grin. oh, he likes this.

dipping back down, your dragon sucks on your folds, one at a time, to really savour you in this helpless state. though your blood is more viscous than usual, dragon!sylus has no objections. if anything, this new discovery makes your intimacy all the more exciting.

when he finally circles your clit with his tongue, you latch onto his silver locks for stability.

"fuck, go slower! please, sy, just—ah!" he sucks harshly.

you mewl, "less pressure, please! it hurts!" your breasts heave, breath coming in short pants as you adjust to his rhythm. he heeds your pleas and rolls his tongue over your sensitive bud with greater care. the feeling is jarring at first, but you eventually melt into the pleasure. it's tinged with sudden strikes of pain, but that only adds to the ecstasy.

you must dripping onto the furs below with the mess dragon!sylus is making of you. that'll be a struggle to get out later. but you couldn't care less as you move your hips in time with his ministrations. your wriggling has your dragon grinning into your cunt, purring as you pleasure yourself on his tongue.

it all happens so quickly, the knot coiling in your stomach. you don't even have time to bask in it before the pleasure crashes down upon you. with barely contained screams, you release on his tongue. your hands pull and push at his hair, dragging him closer, only to push him away as he keeps licking.

"sylus! i can't! i can't, it's too much," you cry out. bending your knees, you plant your feet on his shoulders and try to shove him off. key word: try. not even that can budge him from your pussy. dragon!sylus remains hellbent on lapping up your... whatever the fuck. it's not just cum, but it's blood and discharge and clots and everything else your vagina expels at this time of the month.

nonetheless, he wants to consume it all. who said greed was a bad thing?

once your dragon has finally had his fill, he climbs up your body and embraces you tenderly. he scratches softly at your scalp, earning a sweet sound from you.

you both remain like that until you've caught your breath. now, dragon!sylus will clean you up the human way. that is, with a bath and then a hearty meal afterwards to replenish your strength.

everything taglist- @xiaprint, @heartyluv, @hilliserose, @annicishana, @kiyadeleine, @emslittlelibrary, @iridescentshine

[stargirlygirl]

star girl's retirement party (halloween edition)

the occasion

you're invited to celebrate my retirement (more on that under the cut) and halloween with me (my favourite time of year)!

event details

oct 11th: the ultimate skincare routine

mummy!caleb x f!reader

⭑.ᐟ invited to your first-ever mummy unwrapping party, the last thing you expect is for the entertainment to rise from its display table and walk the earth once more.

note: canon-compliant with my previous work a vampire's heart

oct 20th: invaluable ignorance

vampire!zayne x f!reader

⭑.ᐟ you're far too foolish for your own good; who would attend a masquerade ball in the forbidden woods on samhain night besides from you?!

note: not canon-compliant with a vampire's heart

oct 31st: wvwhosieac

hunter!xavier x vampire!f!reader

⭑.ᐟ will you and your ex-husband finally rekindle things at this year's supernatural beings conference?

note: canon-compliant with my previous works a vampire's heart + the ultimate skincare routine

bonus: arachnid hybrid!rafayel drabble

retirement details: it's (ironically) been a year since i started this blog. i want to say a big thank you to all of my mutuals, followers, and lurkers for your support along the way!

@starryeyed-apple, @cuntphoric-main, @asiatic-apple, @heartyluv, @humanjarvis, @sweetcalebb, @xiaprint, @bloodabi, @syncaleb, @sugurusmoon, @gojoscamgirl, @emslittlelibrary, @cielito--lindo

this blog is no longer what it once was for me (i.e. enjoyable), and it's time that i leave. i've changed a lot throughout my time on here, and there are mistakes i've learnt from along the way. i don't want to end things on a negative note, but to be frank, i am and have experienced much disillusionment with writing on here, what gets likes, the pr of being a blogger, etc.

i'll still be (somewhat) active on ao3, and i'm leaving this blog here so you can always revisit my work. thanks again for sticking with me on this journey, regardless of how long we've been together! goodbye my celestial heart<3

i'll be active for about a week in early november to check comments and such.

[stargirlygirl]

we're finished!!

i'm still gonna be around as i have some works to catch up on from my mooties. annnnndddd i'll probably be here to announce when my hunter!zayne series goes up on ao3, and maybe any other works i'm launching on ao3 as well idk.

happy halloween to all of you northern hemisphere dwellers! i've had such a fun time working on this little event, and i'm really excited for what's to come next. love you all so much, my celestial heart🥹💋

hope to see you over on my ao3!! that's all for now from star girl (😭)

[stargirlygirl]

wvwmhosieac

vamp hunter!xavier x vamp!f!reader

summary: will you and your ex-husband finally rekindle things at this year's supernatural beings conference?

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, basically everyone is in this, 2.5k words

note: canon-compliant with my previous works a vampire's heart + the ultimate skincare routine

“Psssttt, Thomas. Hey, Thomas,” the Sea God whispers, bare shoulder near brushing his assistant’s clothed one.

Thomas snaps his head toward Rafayel and mutters, “What is it, My Lord?”

“I’m hungry, so like, can you go downstairs and buy me a crab roll or something?” The Sea God jumps in his velvety throne as a microphone is thrown in his direction. Thankfully, it missed him. But his attention returns to his subjects fighting below.

“Are you even paying attention, Judge Rafayel?!” You shout from your seat, seeing as your microphone has flown across the room (of its own accord, of course). Your brows are knit together, anger and frustration boiling in your veins from the meeting’s progress (or lack thereof) thus far.

It’s the annual Witches, Vampires, Werewolves, Mummies, Hunters, and Other Supernaturally-Involved Entities Annual Conference, or WVWMHOSIEAC for short. Around the table sit representatives of each faction. For the mummies, ancient diplomat Caleb takes centre stage. The hunters are represented by none other than the greatest of all time (and your former lover), Xavier. To speak for the witches is the exceptional fortune-teller, Tara. If it wasn’t clear, you’ve been elected as the representative for what they call non-vegetarian vampires, those that feast on human blood. The vegetarian vampires (animal blood connoisseurs) are spoken for by long-time anatomist and cardiac surgeon Zayne.

Overseeing today’s conference is the Sea God, Rafayel, but in reality, it’s his right-hand man, Thomas.

The purple-haired man scrambles for his microphone and blurts out, “Of course I am! Of course, now please continue. You were saying…” He waits for you to finish his sentence—glaring, seething you.

After a minute of expectant silence, you grumble, “I was saying that the vampire hunters have been particularly cruel within the past year—”

“Bullshit,” Simone cuts you off, assistant to the soft-spoken Xavier. “It’s you lot that have been ignoring designated hunting zones and encroaching on suburban areas.”

“Well, we wouldn’t have to if you hunters kept appealing for our designated hunting zones to be reduced every year!” You proclaim furiously. “And it’s not even just us, it’s the vegetarians, too. Isn’t that right, Zayne?” The dark-haired man seated beside you merely nods.

Simone starts, “It’s a natural consequence of urbanisation. What do you expect us to do but campaign for zone boundaries to shift when more people settle in previously uninhabited areas?”

You grit out, “Enough. Let’s hear it from the man himself. You’ve been awfully quiet, Captain Xavier. What do you have to say on this matter?” The boardroom falls quiet, chatter between Rafayel and Thomas on the hotel’s seafood menu dying off as all eyes turn to the silver-haired man reaching for his microphone. Slender fingers adjust the stand, bringing the mic close to his pink lips.

It’s been years since you kissed him. Years since you heard his soothing voice. Your separation was an accident. But nothing can overwrite the stillness in your chest and the bloodlust that’s transformed you. You’re no longer the delicate wife you once were, and it’s been a hard pill to swallow for both of you. In all honesty, that pill remains lodged in the back of your throat. You’re not ready to move on, despite how many times you scream at Xavier in these meetings to speak for himself.

Will today finally be the day the revered hunter shares an opinion of his own?

Big blue eyes lock onto you as your past husband offers softly, “This must be frustrating for you. But we have no choice other than to protect the lives you feed on.” You’re rendered speechless, memories flooding back of his deep voice in the early morn, a lazy grin on his face after waking from a good sleep. His stern voice that was reserved for fighting vampires—never directed at you, but at those who attacked you on that fateful night! Xavier’s breaking voice as he cradled your blood-soaked body, convulsing and screaming as you became the one enemy he swore an oath to kill.

Tara proposes, “I mean, it makes sense, like, the population expands, so you have to limit hunting areas. But still, we can’t let the vampires go hungry. How about more vampires become vegetarians?!”

Zayne counters, “Vegetarianism is a lifestyle choice. I doubt hundreds of vampires want to change their centuries-old diet because of urbanisation.”

Caleb chimes in, “Can we please move on to the next topic already? The mummies are facing a serious issue that needs to be addressed.”

“And what might that be? You ran out of moisturiser?” The dark-haired vampire retorts. You have to suppress your snort, drawn out of your thoughts, and suddenly immersed in the present like you were dunked in an ice bath.

The ancient mummy frowns, “Noooo. We’re seriously understaffed for the construction of my new temple. Judge Rafayel, I’d like to request permission to resurrect some more workers and another architect. I need a second opinion from Imhotep on the mural of Ra.”

“Granted,” Rafayel answers resolutely.

You scoff, “Are you kidding me? Who cares about his new temple? The vampire casualty rate has significantly increased ever since Simone was promoted to Vice Captain. I call for her to be demoted back to Team Leader.”

From across the table, she exclaims, “Vampire casualty rate?! We’ve killed what five?! six?! repeat offenders! Your kind has killed at least twenty of ours.”

You begin to bite back, “Rightly so. You hunters keep—”

Thomas butts in, “Ladies, ladies, please. Captain Xavier, can you remind us all of what the hunter’s duty is?”

“To protect humankind from knowledge, fear, and harm by vampires,” he answers.

The Sea God’s disciple goes on, “And is that not what you’ve been doing by… for lack of a better term, eliminating those that repeatedly cause fear or harm to humankind?”

Xavier nods. “Precisely.”

Thomas turns to you and Zayne. “Then I see no issue with the hunter’s actions so far.”

You argue, “Mr Thomas, our issue is not that the hunters are fulfilling their duty. Our issue is that they are moving the goal post, so to speak; they are making it easier for vampires to offend by reducing the size of our hunting zones, justifying their increased violence toward us.” Again, Zayne nods in agreement.

“And what do you suggest we do to return to equilibrium, Miss L/n?” Thomas asks, his tone conveying a genuine sense of curiosity.

You answer confidently, “I suggest we either reinstate the hunting zone boundaries from prior years, or create several new hunting zones to account for lost territory in recent years.”

“Do you agree to this, Captain Xavier?” Thomas pivots back to face the hunters. The silver-haired man thinks for a few moments, gesturing to Simone to let there be silence as he decides. Her jaw is visibly tight as Xavier takes his sweet time.

At last, he answers, “Why don’t we identify the hunting zones with the most offenders and expand them? That way, those offenders can stick to the expanded areas without inciting punishment.”

Thomas nods. “A wonderful idea. Any objections?” You shake your head and gaze at where your microphone was, refusing to meet Xavier’s eyes. You can feel his stare on you, the gears in his mind turning as he notices the darkness beneath your eyes, the slight gauntness to your cheeks. Perhaps he’s relenting because of how the hunter’s strict enforcement has clearly affected your feeding.

Rafayel’s assistant adjourns the meeting with, “We shall continue with planning hunting zone expansions when we return from lunch. The dragon clan, Onychinus, should be with us by then.” One by one, you all file out into the hall and begin walking to the elevators. Caleb and Zayne naturally drift together, the mummy yapping away while his vampiric friend nods and mutters a snarky comment every so often. Simone and Tara stay behind them, talking excitedly about the lunar eclipse tonight.

You stray behind, a melancholy weighing you down. Your mind wanders to distant days, filled with afternoon naps and near-explosions in the kitchen. How you miss him! Not a day passes without you being haunted by the memories of your eternal love.

Nimble fingers wrap around and tug on your wrist. You halt. Gazing up, you find baby blues staring down at you.

“Do you have a minute?” If your heart still beat, it would have skipped one at his delicate voice, like silk on your skin.

You hum, “Mhmm,” and allow him to lead you to one of the empty rooms nearby. Slipping in past him, you notice the plush couches and low table; a drawing room of sorts. You turn around to face him, arms crossed beneath your chest and jaw tight.

With more venom than intended, you spit out, “What do you want? A private negotiation?” Ignoring your questions, he gestures to the lounge behind you, but you don’t budge. With a sigh, he plops down on the sofa opposite.

For the next minute, neither of you speaks. Instead, your roving eyes do the talking. He looks as otherworldly and elegant as he always does. His suit clings to him nicely, showing off his lean figure and adding sharpness to it. You notice he’s wearing the tie you bought him years ago, the glint of embroidery visible in sunlight—a bunny. Your lips twitch, but you force down your smile.

Eventually, he apologises, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how much my silence had affected you.” Ah. You shake your head, but think better of it. He should be sorry. He should be very sorry that you and countless other vampires haven’t been able to feed without fearing retribution should you step beyond the hunting zone boundaries.

You should be the one making him feel the weight of his actions—or rather, inaction, as his vice fought for greater restrictions on your kind. But your anger ebbs as he gazes at you with the softest, roundest eyes and slightly pouty lips. Red flares. How dare he look cute right now!

You shrug. “It’s fine. What matters is that we’re going to fix things.” Realising how that sounded, you quickly add on, “As in, create new hunting zones.” A light grin spreads across his handsome face.

Xavier suggests, “You know, we can fix other things, too. That’s why I pulled you aside. I think it’s time you stopped hiding from me.”

You scoff, “I’m not hiding from you, okay? And don’t you remember what I said last time?—”

“’A vampire and a hunter can never be together. This love won’t work, so give up now.’ Correct?” Your lips part, but no words escape them. His memory is impressive for an old man.

He continues, “How could I forget what you said to me before you walked out on us? Maybe you gave up, but I never did.” Rising from the couch, the hunter closes the distance between you both. You take a step back, your gaze cautious. He stops.

“Don’t you think it’s time we figure things out, Dear?” Your chest pangs—not the ‘Dear’! You could crumble to the floor, crying and wailing over the bond you never succeeded in breaking. And only in your husband’s arms could you compose yourself.

Like a wounded animal, you lash out, “Why?! Why now? Why not fucking four years ago when we first faced each other again at this damned conference?!” It’s as if your frustration passes straight through him, like the breeze kissing his cheeks and running its fingers through his silvery locks. Instead of retaliating—not that Xavier has ever retaliated—, he reaches out and cups your cheek, thumb swiping away your traitorous tears.

You sniffle and continue in a much quieter, shakier voice, “Why do you love me when all I do is hurt you?” He opens his other arm wide, inviting you in. Without hesitation, you throw yourself into his embrace and break down. You sob like you’ve lost someone—your previous resistance is dead—ugly, snotty, and for the entire hotel to hear. Your former husband rubs your back soothingly with one hand while the other scratches gently at your scalp.

He murmurs, “Even if you hurt me, I’ll forgive you. I’ll forgive you in every lifetime, and I know you would do the same for me.” You clutch the back of his blazer tighter, crinkling the wool between your fingertips. Your makeup is likely ruined and staining your beloved’s dress shirt, but you couldn’t care less. Nothing can replace the feeling of his chest against yours, his steady heart pumping hard enough for both of you.

Time elapses as Xavier holds you tight, acting as your anchor until you can stand on your own. A nip of his neck, a few drops of his blood would greatly help, but you know better than to ask for as much. Not because he’d be offended and decline your request. On the contrary, he’d pull down his collar and encourage you to go for it. That’s the problem.

You decided to leave your husband. Barely an explanation before you were out the door, not to be seen for a couple of years until fate would divine your meeting. Those were the hardest years of your life, being a new vampire and by yourself. But you got by, and you’ve continued to get by. However, in your dearest’s arms lies the silent promise that you won’t have to ‘get by’ anymore. That you could—in a sense—live again with him, right where you belong.

No apology necessary, he’ll always accept you despite your wrongdoings, despite what you are and how that impacts his line of work. For you, there is no challenge he wouldn’t overcome.

Slowly, you peel yourself off Xavier. With large hands, he wipes your face and tips your head back. You hiccup as he presses his forehead to yours, his heat a stark contrast to your icy temperature.

“Xav…” You start.

“Mhmm?”

Exhaling a trembling breath, you ask, “Can I come back with-with you? T-to our home? Please.”

Separating your foreheads, your husband kisses your temple sweetly and says quietly against it, “You’re always welcome home, Angel.” You shift your head and peck his lips, the chaotic storm swirling inside stilled by the simple act of affection.

He gazes at you with wide eyes, taken aback by your boldness. You giggle, the sound dampened by your sadness. With a sigh, Xavier bends down and kisses your nose, then captures your lips. You can taste the salt of your tears in his tender kiss.

Pulling back, he guides you to a nearby couch. This time, you sit as he whips out his phone and calls Simone about a suit change and makeup remover. While waiting for her arrival, your hunter pats your eyes dry and fills you in on all the little things you’ve missed since you left. The plants are thriving; he erected a bird’s nest, which is apparently in hot demand; and the fire brigade chief knows him by name, with the number of times he’s called for kitchen mishaps.

You laugh at his stories, tension dissipating with every joyous rumble from your belly. So this is what peace feels like.

star girl's retirement party

star girl's final words: it's halloween and this is what i bring you!!! ao3 is down for me rn so i'll post this over there once it's alive and running. ending things on a light-hearted note (i think)😊

everything taglist- @xiaprint, @heartyluv, @hilliserose, @annicishana, @kiyadeleine, @emslittlelibrary, @iridescentshine

[stargirlygirl]

up now on ao3 here

[stargirlygirl]

wvwmhosieac

vamp hunter!xavier x vamp!f!reader

summary: will you and your ex-husband finally rekindle things at this year's supernatural beings conference?

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, basically everyone is in this, 2.5k words

note: canon-compliant with my previous works a vampire's heart + the ultimate skincare routine

“Psssttt, Thomas. Hey, Thomas,” the Sea God whispers, bare shoulder near brushing his assistant’s clothed one.

Thomas snaps his head toward Rafayel and mutters, “What is it, My Lord?”

“I’m hungry, so like, can you go downstairs and buy me a crab roll or something?” The Sea God jumps in his velvety throne as a microphone is thrown in his direction. Thankfully, it missed him. But his attention returns to his subjects fighting below.

“Are you even paying attention, Judge Rafayel?!” You shout from your seat, seeing as your microphone has flown across the room (of its own accord, of course). Your brows are knit together, anger and frustration boiling in your veins from the meeting’s progress (or lack thereof) thus far.

It’s the annual Witches, Vampires, Werewolves, Mummies, Hunters, and Other Supernaturally-Involved Entities Annual Conference, or WVWMHOSIEAC for short. Around the table sit representatives of each faction. For the mummies, ancient diplomat Caleb takes centre stage. The hunters are represented by none other than the greatest of all time (and your former lover), Xavier. To speak for the witches is the exceptional fortune-teller, Tara. If it wasn’t clear, you’ve been elected as the representative for what they call non-vegetarian vampires, those that feast on human blood. The vegetarian vampires (animal blood connoisseurs) are spoken for by long-time anatomist and cardiac surgeon Zayne.

Overseeing today’s conference is the Sea God, Rafayel, but in reality, it’s his right-hand man, Thomas.

The purple-haired man scrambles for his microphone and blurts out, “Of course I am! Of course, now please continue. You were saying…” He waits for you to finish his sentence—glaring, seething you.

After a minute of expectant silence, you grumble, “I was saying that the vampire hunters have been particularly cruel within the past year—”

“Bullshit,” Simone cuts you off, assistant to the soft-spoken Xavier. “It’s you lot that have been ignoring designated hunting zones and encroaching on suburban areas.”

“Well, we wouldn’t have to if you hunters kept appealing for our designated hunting zones to be reduced every year!” You proclaim furiously. “And it’s not even just us, it’s the vegetarians, too. Isn’t that right, Zayne?” The dark-haired man seated beside you merely nods.

Simone starts, “It’s a natural consequence of urbanisation. What do you expect us to do but campaign for zone boundaries to shift when more people settle in previously uninhabited areas?”

You grit out, “Enough. Let’s hear it from the man himself. You’ve been awfully quiet, Captain Xavier. What do you have to say on this matter?” The boardroom falls quiet, chatter between Rafayel and Thomas on the hotel’s seafood menu dying off as all eyes turn to the silver-haired man reaching for his microphone. Slender fingers adjust the stand, bringing the mic close to his pink lips.

It’s been years since you kissed him. Years since you heard his soothing voice. Your separation was an accident. But nothing can overwrite the stillness in your chest and the bloodlust that’s transformed you. You’re no longer the delicate wife you once were, and it’s been a hard pill to swallow for both of you. In all honesty, that pill remains lodged in the back of your throat. You’re not ready to move on, despite how many times you scream at Xavier in these meetings to speak for himself.

Will today finally be the day the revered hunter shares an opinion of his own?

Big blue eyes lock onto you as your past husband offers softly, “This must be frustrating for you. But we have no choice other than to protect the lives you feed on.” You’re rendered speechless, memories flooding back of his deep voice in the early morn, a lazy grin on his face after waking from a good sleep. His stern voice that was reserved for fighting vampires—never directed at you, but at those who attacked you on that fateful night! Xavier’s breaking voice as he cradled your blood-soaked body, convulsing and screaming as you became the one enemy he swore an oath to kill.

Tara proposes, “I mean, it makes sense, like, the population expands, so you have to limit hunting areas. But still, we can’t let the vampires go hungry. How about more vampires become vegetarians?!”

Zayne counters, “Vegetarianism is a lifestyle choice. I doubt hundreds of vampires want to change their centuries-old diet because of urbanisation.”

Caleb chimes in, “Can we please move on to the next topic already? The mummies are facing a serious issue that needs to be addressed.”

“And what might that be? You ran out of moisturiser?” The dark-haired vampire retorts. You have to suppress your snort, drawn out of your thoughts, and suddenly immersed in the present like you were dunked in an ice bath.

The ancient mummy frowns, “Noooo. We’re seriously understaffed for the construction of my new temple. Judge Rafayel, I’d like to request permission to resurrect some more workers and another architect. I need a second opinion from Imhotep on the mural of Ra.”

“Granted,” Rafayel answers resolutely.

You scoff, “Are you kidding me? Who cares about his new temple? The vampire casualty rate has significantly increased ever since Simone was promoted to Vice Captain. I call for her to be demoted back to Team Leader.”

From across the table, she exclaims, “Vampire casualty rate?! We’ve killed what five?! six?! repeat offenders! Your kind has killed at least twenty of ours.”

You begin to bite back, “Rightly so. You hunters keep—”

Thomas butts in, “Ladies, ladies, please. Captain Xavier, can you remind us all of what the hunter’s duty is?”

“To protect humankind from knowledge, fear, and harm by vampires,” he answers.

The Sea God’s disciple goes on, “And is that not what you’ve been doing by… for lack of a better term, eliminating those that repeatedly cause fear or harm to humankind?”

Xavier nods. “Precisely.”

Thomas turns to you and Zayne. “Then I see no issue with the hunter’s actions so far.”

You argue, “Mr Thomas, our issue is not that the hunters are fulfilling their duty. Our issue is that they are moving the goal post, so to speak; they are making it easier for vampires to offend by reducing the size of our hunting zones, justifying their increased violence toward us.” Again, Zayne nods in agreement.

“And what do you suggest we do to return to equilibrium, Miss L/n?” Thomas asks, his tone conveying a genuine sense of curiosity.

You answer confidently, “I suggest we either reinstate the hunting zone boundaries from prior years, or create several new hunting zones to account for lost territory in recent years.”

“Do you agree to this, Captain Xavier?” Thomas pivots back to face the hunters. The silver-haired man thinks for a few moments, gesturing to Simone to let there be silence as he decides. Her jaw is visibly tight as Xavier takes his sweet time.

At last, he answers, “Why don’t we identify the hunting zones with the most offenders and expand them? That way, those offenders can stick to the expanded areas without inciting punishment.”

Thomas nods. “A wonderful idea. Any objections?” You shake your head and gaze at where your microphone was, refusing to meet Xavier’s eyes. You can feel his stare on you, the gears in his mind turning as he notices the darkness beneath your eyes, the slight gauntness to your cheeks. Perhaps he’s relenting because of how the hunter’s strict enforcement has clearly affected your feeding.

Rafayel’s assistant adjourns the meeting with, “We shall continue with planning hunting zone expansions when we return from lunch. The dragon clan, Onychinus, should be with us by then.” One by one, you all file out into the hall and begin walking to the elevators. Caleb and Zayne naturally drift together, the mummy yapping away while his vampiric friend nods and mutters a snarky comment every so often. Simone and Tara stay behind them, talking excitedly about the lunar eclipse tonight.

You stray behind, a melancholy weighing you down. Your mind wanders to distant days, filled with afternoon naps and near-explosions in the kitchen. How you miss him! Not a day passes without you being haunted by the memories of your eternal love.

Nimble fingers wrap around and tug on your wrist. You halt. Gazing up, you find baby blues staring down at you.

“Do you have a minute?” If your heart still beat, it would have skipped one at his delicate voice, like silk on your skin.

You hum, “Mhmm,” and allow him to lead you to one of the empty rooms nearby. Slipping in past him, you notice the plush couches and low table; a drawing room of sorts. You turn around to face him, arms crossed beneath your chest and jaw tight.

With more venom than intended, you spit out, “What do you want? A private negotiation?” Ignoring your questions, he gestures to the lounge behind you, but you don’t budge. With a sigh, he plops down on the sofa opposite.

For the next minute, neither of you speaks. Instead, your roving eyes do the talking. He looks as otherworldly and elegant as he always does. His suit clings to him nicely, showing off his lean figure and adding sharpness to it. You notice he’s wearing the tie you bought him years ago, the glint of embroidery visible in sunlight—a bunny. Your lips twitch, but you force down your smile.

Eventually, he apologises, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how much my silence had affected you.” Ah. You shake your head, but think better of it. He should be sorry. He should be very sorry that you and countless other vampires haven’t been able to feed without fearing retribution should you step beyond the hunting zone boundaries.

You should be the one making him feel the weight of his actions—or rather, inaction, as his vice fought for greater restrictions on your kind. But your anger ebbs as he gazes at you with the softest, roundest eyes and slightly pouty lips. Red flares. How dare he look cute right now!

You shrug. “It’s fine. What matters is that we’re going to fix things.” Realising how that sounded, you quickly add on, “As in, create new hunting zones.” A light grin spreads across his handsome face.

Xavier suggests, “You know, we can fix other things, too. That’s why I pulled you aside. I think it’s time you stopped hiding from me.”

You scoff, “I’m not hiding from you, okay? And don’t you remember what I said last time?—”

“’A vampire and a hunter can never be together. This love won’t work, so give up now.’ Correct?” Your lips part, but no words escape them. His memory is impressive for an old man.

He continues, “How could I forget what you said to me before you walked out on us? Maybe you gave up, but I never did.” Rising from the couch, the hunter closes the distance between you both. You take a step back, your gaze cautious. He stops.

“Don’t you think it’s time we figure things out, Dear?” Your chest pangs—not the ‘Dear’! You could crumble to the floor, crying and wailing over the bond you never succeeded in breaking. And only in your husband’s arms could you compose yourself.

Like a wounded animal, you lash out, “Why?! Why now? Why not fucking four years ago when we first faced each other again at this damned conference?!” It’s as if your frustration passes straight through him, like the breeze kissing his cheeks and running its fingers through his silvery locks. Instead of retaliating—not that Xavier has ever retaliated—, he reaches out and cups your cheek, thumb swiping away your traitorous tears.

You sniffle and continue in a much quieter, shakier voice, “Why do you love me when all I do is hurt you?” He opens his other arm wide, inviting you in. Without hesitation, you throw yourself into his embrace and break down. You sob like you’ve lost someone—your previous resistance is dead—ugly, snotty, and for the entire hotel to hear. Your former husband rubs your back soothingly with one hand while the other scratches gently at your scalp.

He murmurs, “Even if you hurt me, I’ll forgive you. I’ll forgive you in every lifetime, and I know you would do the same for me.” You clutch the back of his blazer tighter, crinkling the wool between your fingertips. Your makeup is likely ruined and staining your beloved’s dress shirt, but you couldn’t care less. Nothing can replace the feeling of his chest against yours, his steady heart pumping hard enough for both of you.

Time elapses as Xavier holds you tight, acting as your anchor until you can stand on your own. A nip of his neck, a few drops of his blood would greatly help, but you know better than to ask for as much. Not because he’d be offended and decline your request. On the contrary, he’d pull down his collar and encourage you to go for it. That’s the problem.

You decided to leave your husband. Barely an explanation before you were out the door, not to be seen for a couple of years until fate would divine your meeting. Those were the hardest years of your life, being a new vampire and by yourself. But you got by, and you’ve continued to get by. However, in your dearest’s arms lies the silent promise that you won’t have to ‘get by’ anymore. That you could—in a sense—live again with him, right where you belong.

No apology necessary, he’ll always accept you despite your wrongdoings, despite what you are and how that impacts his line of work. For you, there is no challenge he wouldn’t overcome.

Slowly, you peel yourself off Xavier. With large hands, he wipes your face and tips your head back. You hiccup as he presses his forehead to yours, his heat a stark contrast to your icy temperature.

“Xav…” You start.

“Mhmm?”

Exhaling a trembling breath, you ask, “Can I come back with-with you? T-to our home? Please.”

Separating your foreheads, your husband kisses your temple sweetly and says quietly against it, “You’re always welcome home, Angel.” You shift your head and peck his lips, the chaotic storm swirling inside stilled by the simple act of affection.

He gazes at you with wide eyes, taken aback by your boldness. You giggle, the sound dampened by your sadness. With a sigh, Xavier bends down and kisses your nose, then captures your lips. You can taste the salt of your tears in his tender kiss.

Pulling back, he guides you to a nearby couch. This time, you sit as he whips out his phone and calls Simone about a suit change and makeup remover. While waiting for her arrival, your hunter pats your eyes dry and fills you in on all the little things you’ve missed since you left. The plants are thriving; he erected a bird’s nest, which is apparently in hot demand; and the fire brigade chief knows him by name, with the number of times he’s called for kitchen mishaps.

You laugh at his stories, tension dissipating with every joyous rumble from your belly. So this is what peace feels like.

star girl's retirement party

star girl's final words: it's halloween and this is what i bring you!!! ao3 is down for me rn so i'll post this over there once it's alive and running. ending things on a light-hearted note (i think)😊

everything taglist- @xiaprint, @heartyluv, @hilliserose, @annicishana, @kiyadeleine, @emslittlelibrary, @iridescentshine

[stargirlygirl]

another hunter!zayne au snippet

He reminds you, “On our wedding night, I told you that we had to move forward, and I meant for us to do so together. You might think I’m a savage and that our way of life is barbaric. But that doesn’t mean I won’t offer you my support when you’re struggling. That is my duty as—”

You lash out, “I don’t care about what your duty is, Shen!” Pivoting around, you grasp the edge of the tub and hold onto it as you stare at your husband. He gazes at you with equal anger, but his simmers beneath the surface.

He spits out, “If it is not duty binding us, then what will? Tell me what you want, and I’ll do what you ask. Is that not how a good husband should behave?”

Your forehead is creased and jaw tight as you argue, “It’s not about being a good husband. I don’t want you to support me because you feel that you have to! I want you to support me because you want to!”

“You don’t want me to be a good husband?” He clarifies, incredulous.

“You’re not listening to me!” You shout, becoming increasingly furious with the man before you. “Of course, I want you to be a good husband! But I want you to be a good husband because you love me!”

“How can I love you when you push me away?” You fall quiet. It’s all your fault, isn’t it? Turning back around, you sink against the bath. Logically, you know the blame is shared. Both of you should have reached out to each other sooner. But his words ring true. How can you love someone when they won’t let you in? How can you get to know someone who hides from you?

The water is feeling rather cold, now that you run your fingertips across the surface, attempting to hold in your tears. You haven’t cried in months… is what you’d like the say, for the truth is far from that.

At last, Shen murmurs, “If we spent more time together, would that make you happy?”

everything taglist- @xiaprint, @heartyluv, @hilliserose, @annicishana, @kiyadeleine, @emslittlelibrary, @iridescentshine + @sugurusmoon

[stargirlygirl]

omegaverse audio story time but like BEWARE tis not for ye children

soooooo i was listening to this omegaverse audio porn, and like it's been ages since i listened to an audio but i was like chow i'm feeling it, lets go. LOVE the plot🫶 something about like you got assigned an alpha and go over to his place cause you're in heat, but then your assigned alpha is training a rookie alpha and y'all end up having a threesome😏😏

SLAY right? like i was so invested in this. but the guy doing the audio would not shut up i was like pookie i'm so sorry i can't. like i got half an hour into it and had to call it quits.

but yo i didn't know they made omegaverse audio porn. how crazy is that? it feels really odd to write and read omegaverse (sometimes) and then be confronted with an audio version of it. very creative and interesting i'll say that.

like i love a good audio > visuals, because visuals are very much made for men. but i really can't stand it when the guy speaking (as in m4f) won't shut up. it depends on so many things like the microphone quality, the bgm, the additional sounds, the kiss sounds, his voice, how often he talks😔😔

[stargirlygirl]

idk if i need to say this, but i've seen the new banner lol, i just have nothing to say about it.

like as a kpop fan... idk this really should be up my alley, get my nerd going but... feel like we're doing too much kpopopping. i think a band concept, where they were all in the same band, would have been cooler. get some mayday (the tawainese rock band (saw them for their 25th anniversary concert btw)) going.

edit: my personal take on lads men in a band is caleb on drums, zayne on piano, rafayel on vocals, xavier on electric guitar, and sylus as the visual aid and producer.

[stargirlygirl]

the new event is actually so fire. i love the music focus and the games omg. like the running game to collect volts, i think? that's so fun!! infold really cooked with this one.

just from the hearts ablaze banner though like, the wishpool, you know? when you click on wish? sylus's song imo doesn't suit him. he literally can't sing like what is this? the voice feels a little too high-pitched to me. but i think the others are fine from what i've seen.

feel like i already hinted at this, but i think it would have been cool if infold went with a mandopop theme instead of a kpop theme. obvs kpop is more popular, but lads is a chinese game, so i think it would have made more sense for the songs to be in chinese. like they do have idols in china but it's not as popular as kpop or even idol culture in japan yet. idk that's just me.

[cielito--lindo]

you can't tell me that katsuki didn't take dance classes growing up and refused to tell anyone until he saw one of his cousin's fugly friends trying to pull you to the dance floor at a wedding

"come on, sweetheart!" you winced at the fumes of alcohol coming from this dude's mouth "it's just a dance!"

before you could come up with an excuse, you felt a warm and strong hand wrap around your waist

"if you wanna keep your disgusting hands, you better back. the fuck. up" katsuki growled out from behind you. he didn't bother waiting for whatever drunken excuse that poor bastard would've conjured up

"where are we going??"

"you wanted to dance, so we're gonna dance" katsuki winked at you before pulling you to the middle of the dance floor. your eyes darted around as the other couples took to the floor.

the live orchestra, that cost his cousin a small fortune, began to play a sweeping waltz.

you felt yourself freeze. listen, you were a great dancer. you loved it. you could shake ass to anything. but this??

you were so out of your element.

"katsuki I can't fucking waltz! let's just go!" you pleaded with him

"listen, just follow my lead. it's gonna be okay, princess" the blonde grinned at you as he took your hand in his and tightened his hold on your waist. "ready?"

before you could respond, katsuki quickly glided you across the dance floor.

he muttered reassurances under his breath as he beamed at you. you had known katsuki for years, but it felt like the man who was currently twirling you was a stranger.

"okay, pretty girl, big finish" katsuki gave you a final spin as the music swelled to a finish. he cradled the back of your head as he dipped you with a flourish.

applause sounded around you but all you could focus on was the heaving of both your chests and bright carmine eyes shining down on you.

katsuki lifted you up gently, making sure you didn't hurt yourself.

"what in the actual fuck was that?" your voice sounded dazed to your own ears as the explosive hero guided you back to your table, handing you a water.

"it's called dancing"

"i didn't know you could dance like that!"

"Japan's ballroom champ, baby." katsuki boasted proudly.

"that was amazing" you could still feel the faint buzz of adrenaline under your skin "I wanna do it again. will you teach me??"

katsuki leaned over and kissed you softly "whatever you want, angel. but if you breathe a word of this to our idiot friends, I will deny it until I'm blue in the face."

[stargirlygirl]

star girl's retirement party (halloween edition)

the occasion

you're invited to celebrate my retirement (more on that under the cut) and halloween with me (my favourite time of year)!

event details

oct 11th: the ultimate skincare routine

mummy!caleb x f!reader

⭑.ᐟ invited to your first-ever mummy unwrapping party, the last thing you expect is for the entertainment to rise from its display table and walk the earth once more.

note: canon-compliant with my previous work a vampire's heart

oct 20th: invaluable ignorance

vampire!zayne x f!reader

⭑.ᐟ you're far too foolish for your own good; who would attend a masquerade ball in the forbidden woods on samhain night besides from you?!

note: not canon-compliant with a vampire's heart

oct 31st: wvwhosieac

hunter!xavier x vampire!f!reader

⭑.ᐟ will you and your ex-husband finally rekindle things at this year's supernatural beings conference?

note: canon-compliant with my previous work a vampire's heart + the ultimate skincare routine

bonus: arachnid hybrid!rafayel drabble

retirement details: it's (ironically) been a year since i started this blog. i want to say a big thank you to all of my mutuals, followers, and lurkers for your support along the way!

@starryeyed-apple, @cuntphoric-main, @asiatic-apple, @heartyluv, @humanjarvis, @sweetcalebb, @xiaprint, @bloodabi, @syncaleb, @sugurusmoon, @gojoscamgirl, @emslittlelibrary, @cielito--lindo

this blog is no longer what it once was for me (i.e. enjoyable), and it's time that i leave. i've changed a lot throughout my time on here, and there are mistakes i've learnt from along the way. i don't want to end things on a negative note, but to be frank, i am and have experienced much disillusionment with writing on here, what gets likes, the pr of being a blogger, etc.

i'll still be (somewhat) active on ao3, and i'm leaving this blog here so you can always revisit my work. thanks again for sticking with me on this journey, regardless of how long we've been together! goodbye my celestial heart<3

i'll be active for about a week in early november to check comments and such.

[stargirlygirl]

the final (vamp x hunter w/xavier) might also be delayed btw😬😬 just started uni again after break week, so bear with me as i edit and get my writing shit together🙏

[stargirlygirl]

it's actually so fine, just edited now while waiting for the support background of the new update to download (it's been half an hour and we're at 61%💪)