1 - 20 of 53 Works by papernautilus
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"Oh Calyx," Halmarut sighs. "Your stuffing is all coming out."
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little wife. by papernautilus
Fandoms: La Passe-Miroir | The Mirror Visitor - Christelle Dabos
16 Sep 2025
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His coat. Her undone hair. That whisper-thin chemise. His angry little wife.
He felt strangely desperate to please her, and it unbalanced him. And Thorn could afford nothing less than perfect equilibrium.
An AU in which the wedding occurs as planned in The Missing of Clairdelune, and Thorn and Ophelia must fulfill their conjugal duties. PWP.
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“Tell me what to do,” you beg. “Tell me how—how to be.”
The Exarch settles his hand upon your forehead, and tells you.
Impact play with the Crystal Exarch's crystal hand. PWP.
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“You told me it was mine,” G’raha finds himself saying. “That I had as much a right to your life as anyone. Unless my ears mistake me.”
Lilith rolls back onto her heels. “Alright. I am true to my word. What demands do you make of me, G’raha Tia?”
He shrugs. “Live.”
A sequel fic to how you've haunted me so stunningly. Nothing heals clean.
Series
- Part 2 of lilith.exe
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Rumi thought she understood how to grieve the dead.
After the Honmoon is restored, she sees Jinu everywhere.
A one-shot inspired by this concept art of a Rujinu aquarium date.
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“But know that his devotion is not without reason. Even if he himself can no longer remember what that reason is.”
Though split unto fourteen shards, their bond endures, twisted beyond recognition.
or: the G'ridibus fic. Now with a sequel fic, (in your gaze) dissolve me.
Series
- Part 1 of lilith.exe
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“What has the Tower done to you?” Raha gasps out. “What horrors have the Ancients wrought upon me?”
The Exarch considers this. “A century ago I fed it my soul, and this is all that is left.”
In the coalescence of souls, the Crystal Exarch lashes out at the only person he can: himself.
alternatively: the Rahacest fic.
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When Calyx tries to assassinate her, wielding an entire metropolis’ worth of levin to immolate the Warrior of Light for his calculating experiments, it is too much for G’raha Tia’s careworn heart.
7.2 spoilers. F!WoL/G'raha one-shot.
Series
- Part 3 of lilith.exe
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For whatever subconscious reason, more than even the attack on Radz-at-han, G'raha found that part of him—whatever sediment of his soul too crystallized to be entirely dissolved by himself—rising to the surface here in this sunless city of electrope. He feels one hundred years old all over again as Sphene raises her hand, hailing him over. He becomes terribly aware that he is the only other person alive on Etheirys who could possibly understand this particular strain of insomnia.
He swallows his pride, his misplaced ardor, the bloodsoaked memories of her predecessor, and settles down at her right-hand side, summoning a genuine smile.
Post 7.2, quick G'raha/Sphene one-shot.
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“Five months. You watched all of us die believing you’d crashed the ship. Every day I changed your bandages, tried to give you your medicine, I wondered—why did I have to live with what Jimmy had done, but you couldn’t?”
“He told me,” Curly’s voice creaks out. “Before he did it. I didn’t—god, I wanted to believe the best in him.”
Anya whispers into the darkness, “so did I.”
You have no choice but to go on. Something of a sequel/fix-it fic to all the stars, fearlessly bright.
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Radiance was too pale a word to describe how Oschon burnished in the firelight. “You have my apologies, my lady,” he murmured. “I am unused to companions. I have never traveled with one, and we are short on time.”
“Short on time for what?”
This, the mercurial god did not deign to answer.
A Starlight celebration one-shot.
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Anya wakes in perfect pitch-black to the hum of the engine, nestled deep in the bowels of the Tulpar—a sort of incandescent thrumming that she can feel vibrating even through the thin mattress and bedframe. It is the constant heartbeat of a giant—like listening to check if a patient is still alive.
It said: you are still rocketing at a million miles an hour to some distant planetoid. You are still millions of miles from everything you have ever known or loved.
You are still trapped on this tin can with your rapist.
And then, she vomits.
The events of Mouthwashing but if Anya survived to the end. Now with a sequel/fix-it fic in future rust, future dust.
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"Isalathe?"
“Yes,” Solas says slowly. “There was once an order to everything, in the time of Arlathan. Even this. None in your clan spoke of this?”
“Spoke of what, ha’hren?” she pleads. “I’m so tired and nauseous and—” her insides clench uncomfortably, “hungry,” she gasps. “Please, Solas—if you can help me—"
"You are in heat, da’len,” he whispers. “There is only one thing that will bring you relief. You’ve seen the halla in spring, yes? It is no different.”
or: a solavellan heatfic.
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He’d looked down at her with something like love in his eyes, when she’d bitten off his finger, choked on his acrid, irradiated blood. Now that right there is the closest thing we’ve had to an honest exchange so far, the knife paring skin and flesh and muscle and nerve and bone as easily as if she were a peach, ready to bake and devour.
As he prepares to defile her, there’s nothing left in the Ghoul but hatred.
or: lucy earns a drink of water the hard way.
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you're a cowboy like me. by papernautilus
Fandoms: Fallout (TV 2024), Fallout: New Vegas
01 Jun 2024
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day seven: a test of loyalty / body worship.
“Of course they’re creeps,” Cooper says, “they eat people.”
“Be serious.”
Deathly, darlin’. That’s what they’re known for. Ask anyone on the Strip. They call it the most dangerous game. ‘Course,” he reaches over to drag a tendril of her hair through his fingers, “you’d know all about that.”
“Why’d you make me do that, anyway?” Lucy snaps. “You were horrible.”
“If you think that, then you haven’t learned a damn thing. I could’ve actually tortured you, had my way with you—” he drags his calloused thumb across her bare shoulderblade, “but I fed you. Watered you. Kept you safe.”
“And I let you live.”
rated E for implied cannibalism and explicit cunnilingus.
a series of prompts for #GhoulcyWeek2024.
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the killing time, unwillingly mine. by papernautilus
Fandoms: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
21 Jan 2024
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“You know I love you, Astarion,” you tell him now, stroking the harsh line of his cheekbone, smoothing down his smile lines. “But there are some things about me that will be unchanged.”
He looks at you as if his stubborn lock might just be worth breaking.
“Tomorrow,” he says instead, kissing your neck, the divet between your collarbones. Your breath catches. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Or: the first thing Astarion tells you is you're not allowed to leave the Palace. Post ending, Ascended Astarion/Good Aligned Vague F!Tav.
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It is Astarion alone who stands next to you, covered in gore, and his smile is so sweet, so beatific, as he traces a blood-soaked hand across your cheek.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, even as you effortlessly slip your dagger into his stomach.
When you wake, sprawled in your bedclothes in a sweaty, inextricable tangle, you hate yourself so much you think it could finally kill you.
Good Aligned Vague F!Dark Urge/Astarion, happy spooktober.
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(my, my, those eyes like fire) winged insect, funeral pyre. by papernautilus
Fandoms: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
19 Sep 2023
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He’d had her taste on his tongue, between her legs, from her pulse, her lips—but all Astarion could think about was the unvarnished way she’d hugged him, as if she could hold him together all on her own, as if that might be enough.
Astarion/Vague F!Tav, Act 1 & 2 romance-centric.
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your dark gospel, encrypted in body language. by papernautilus
Fandoms: Final Fantasy XIV
22 Aug 2023
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“Is it not past time you found someone? Strong you may be, but how much stronger might you prove with another at your side?”
She remembered Y’mhitra’s tear-stricken face. Voicing something she had never quite allowed herself to consider.
And how it felt to be held in strong, unwavering arms.
Runar sat down across from her. “You have that expression on your face,” he told her. “You are figuring out something. Care to share?”
Y’shtola blinked, and smiled. “Nothing of import,” she assured him.
And so it went.
Pre-Shadowbringers, Y'shtola/Runar slowburn.
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He long since resigned himself to never playing again. Perhaps when he was younger, if matters had not transpired as they did, he would have the talents necessary to win Jehantel’s tutorship. Perhaps his song may not carry through the centuries, but his spirit certainly had. And if G’raha’s spirit could not be rendered immortal, certainly he could give voice to the Warrior of Light’s song.
But then, the most curious thing happened.
G’raha Tia returned home.
a compilation of several wips/snippets i've written in the last year, ratings, CWs, and quality vary wildly.