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mousy-nona · 3 months

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Two's Company (Three's a Crowd)

Vox cuts into Alastor's radio broadcast, and quickly figures out why that was a Very Bad Idea.

Or, Vox finds out about Alastor and Lucifer. Jealousy ensues.

(Set between chapters 4 and 5 of All of God's Angels)

Lucifer had a radio. He dusted it off and turned it on some nights, when they were playing the oldies, or when he wanted to catch up on current events, or…

Or when a certain strawberry pimp was on air.

(If he was being honest, he hadn’t missed a single episode since the day they’d met.)

The demon’s voice was like liquid honey, dripping with dark things and speckled with odd ‘20s slang. It quickly became a habit: turn on the radio, pull up a few of his latest blueprints, and get to work. Some of Alastor’s more… creative suggestions even gave him a few ideas for new horror-themed rides for Lu Lu World.

My muse, he thought, snorting to himself when no one was around..

That particular night, he was humming away, listening to Alastor prattle on about why the Pride ring was categorically better than Gluttony ( more interesting victims, for one! ) when there was an audible screech. The signal wavered, replaced by the obnoxious blaring intro of a news show.

He recognized that sound at once. Everyone in Pentagram City did. It was the breaking news soundtrack for 666 News.

But what was it doing here, on Alastor’s radio?

He leaned in, new rubber duck design completely forgotten, as he and the rest of Hell waited with baited breath.

“Gooood evening Pentagram City!” A voice – a man’s, with a chipper American accent by the sound of it – filtered through the speaker. Lucifer cursed to himself. He really needed to pay attention to the politics of Hell. He had no idea who this was. B something? The demon continued, sounding immensely pleased with himself. “We interrupt this not-so-important broadcast with breaking news: why are you listening to this washed up has-been when you could be watching 666 News on the V Network? Get with the times, you—”

The radio whined, letting out an audible protest as the signal was hijacked again – and by the sound of it, far more violently this time.

The momentary crackle of static, then – “Apologies about the momentary interruption, folks!” Alastor’s cheery voice cut in. But underneath that ‘20s charm, Lucifer could hear a hardness that hadn’t been there before. “A mere technical error, nothing to worry about. I promise you, those responsible will be appropriately punished.”

The last word practically crawled of the penumbra, of shadows, of Bad Things. Lucifer shivered, finding himself half-wishing he was the one Alastor was talking about. He caught himself with a frown. What the Hell was he thinking?

“Now back to our regularly scheduled programming!”

The next morning, Lucifer came downstairs to find the entire hotel gathered around a shiny red box.

“What do you think it could be?” Angel Dust asked.

Husk shrugged, looking, as always, utterly unimpressed by the whole situation.

Niffty was flitting around it so fast she was nothing but a blur, panting excitedly the entire time. “Don’t smell bugs,” she muttered, almost as if she was disappointed by the fact.

“Only one way to find out. Let’s open it!” Charlie bounded forward, one hand outstretched. Both he and Vaggie leapt to stop her at the same time, but Vaggie got there first. She grabbed his daughter’s hand and twirled her away from the mysterious-box-potential-bomb-thing, popping a little kiss onto her nose to distract her when she tried to lunge for it again.

Yeeuch . Good for Charlie, but he was never going to get used to that.

“What’s up, b–” He almost said bitches , but managed to catch himself at the last minute. “ Boys ?”

Better. Much better.

The “boys” glanced at each other, clearly confused. Vaggie let go of Charlie so fast she almost spun her around like a top.

Charlie recovered quickly and pointed at the thing they were staring at. “Dad! This got delivered to the hotel this morning. Vaggie thinks someone wants to blow us up!” She said, as if she was announcing someone had sent them a birthday cake.

Vaggie sighed. “Might, Charlie. I said someone might want to blow us up.”

“Right! That!”

“No worries!” Lucifer puffed up his chest, feeling a rush of pride. He was helping his daughter! He could feel their bond growing stronger already! “ I’ll open it!”

“Careful, Dad!” Charlie gasped. Vaggie pulled her backwards, shielding her with her own body. Husk surreptitiously stepped in front of Angel Dust. Niffty stayed exactly where she was – right next to the box – but Angel Dust swooped in and lifted her out of harm’s way. Lucifer waited a beat, wondering if Alastor was going to show up and swoop him out of the way.

No such luck. He sighed, wondering if he’d gone temporarily insane to even hope for such a thing. Alastor would probably push him into the box if he was here.

Holding his breath, he quickly clawed at the cardboard seams. The box fell open, revealing…

Angel Dust wrinkled his nose. “Is that…an old TV?”

“It is,” Husk grumbled, recognition flaring in his yellow eyes.

The hazy gray screen was surrounded on all sides by wood paneling. There were two dials on it, one labeled UHF and the other labeled VHF. Attached to the front was a single note, written in huge, spiky letters: Remember the good times?

He felt Alastor before he saw him. A mass of shadows bubbled in the corner and burst, revealing the tall, graceful demon in his erstwhile pinstripe suit.

Lucifer puffed up. “Convenient of you to come when the danger’s over, huh? Looks like I saved the day this time –”

Alastor swept past him as if he was air. All his attention was focused on that damned TV. Lucifer’s voice faltered, sputtering like a flame before it finally went out.

“Alastor, your buddy sent you a gift,” Husk muttered.

“So it seems,” Alastor said, cold and cruel. He grabbed the note from the screen, his nose wrinkling as he read it. Then his grin turned sharp.

Faster than anyone could blink, Alastor skewered the TV in half with his staff. The wood protested, groaning as it fell apart, revealing the black glistening gears inside. Acrid smoke started flowing, and Alastor was soon submerged in an eye-watering cloud, his wicked chuckles reverbrating through the entire hotel.

“Looks like someone is desparate for my personal attention.”

Lucifer bristled. Someone? Who? Someone other than him? He opened his mouth, but when the smoke cleared, Alastor was gone.

Husk tutted and walked back to the bar, mumbling about show offs and annoying dandy-ass motherfuckers. Lucifer followed close behind, practically shoving Angel Dust out of the way.

“Do you know who sent that TV?”

Husk turned around, so slowly it was like he was moving through molasses. “Yeah, of course. Who doesn’t?”

I don’t, you smug little house cat. Through a great effort of will, Lucifer managed to stop himself from showing Husk exactly what his new line of rubber ducks could do. “Mind enlightening me?”

“It came from Big Daddy V,” Angel Dust slid into the seat next to him, fluttering his lashes. Lucifer stared at him. “You know, the head honcho?” Still no reaction. “Vox?”

“Is he the guy with the television for a head?” Lucifer asked.

“Duh,” Angel Dust said at the same time Husk said, “Who else?”

“I think he was the one who interrupted Alastor’s radio show last night too. What’s his deal with Alastor anyway?” Lucifer was not annoyed. He was not irritated at how easily he’d been cast aside. He was definitely not upset about how Alastor had disappeared after promising to give Vox his personal attention .

“He’s obsessed with him.”

And Lucifer was not tempted at all to rip this Vox’s throat out and leave him to die a very slow, very painful death. “Alastor is?” He hissed.

His chest twisted, throbbing with a pain he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He held his hand over his heart, marveling at the way it pounded as hard as if he’d just fought a grueling battle with the angels.

“No, Vox is. They’ve had a rivalry going for decades now.” Husk looked at him strangely. “You really don’t know about any of this? Aren’t you the king of Hell or something?”

Decades. They had decades of history together. Vox would always own a piece of Alastor that Lucifer would never get to know. An irrational anger rose deep from his gut. He knew it made no sense, but it was almost unbearable to think that there was someone out there who may have a claim over Alastor that he didn’t.

And maybe he was a demon just like the rest of them, because a selfish rage rattled in his chest: Alastor was his.

Too late, he realized the silence had stretched on a touch too long. Now both Angel Dust and Husk were staring at him. Angel Dust’s knowing smile in particular was quite unsettling. Quickly, he excused himself and ran back up to this room, where he could not think about Alastor in peace and quiet, thank you very much. But as soon as he opened the door, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

Meet me at Rosie’s.

The note was written in Alastor’s beautiful, old-school cursive.

“That tacky little good-for-nothing,” Lucifer grumbled. “He thinks he can order me around?”

He crumpled up the note in his fist. He would go meet him – but only to teach the cocky asshole a lesson.

Right. That was the only reason why.

(He’d always been a bad liar.)

“There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost on the way.”

Alastor’s wide grin was the first thing that greeted him when he stepped out of the portal. He resisted the urge to smack him in the nose, because he knew how to be the bigger man. Figuratively, of course.

“Why did you want me to meet you here?”

“Why do I ever want to meet you anywhere?”

Lucifer paused, running through some numbers in his head. “But it’s not the first of the month yet.”

Alastor grinned and pressed in close. His bowtie, usually so neat and buttoned up, was askew. His shirt gaped open the tiniest bit, revealing a hint of mouthwatering collarbone and the barest glimpse at the strong chest underneath. Lucifer felt his cheeks heat. “What’s a little extra healing between friends?” Alastor murmured into his ear.

“We aren’t…we aren’t friends,” Lucifer protested, stumbling only once. “Besides, we’re outside. Anyone can see us.”

“Rosie won’t mind,” Alastor smiled. “What’s hers is mine, and so on and so forth.” He crooked one finger into his tie and pulled, loosening it further. “And the Cannibals know to mind their own business.”

The rough brick of Rosie’s storefront was digging into Lucifer’s back. He winced, a surge of annoyance running through him when he realized that Alastor was pushing him around again . Alastor always did whatever he wanted. He would play with him at home, teasing him relentlessly, making his life Hell, but then he’d run off and play rivals with some other bastard the moment Lucifer took his eyes off of him.

What kind of heartless, two-timing devil would do that?

Suddenly filled with a burning rage he still didn’t quite understand, Lucifer flipped around so he was the one pressing Alastor against the wall. Strangely, the demon didn’t fight him. He watched through heavy lids as Lucifer pushed forward until their bodies were flush against each other. Lucifer could feel every one of Alastor’s hard muscles through the layers of clothing between them. The air crackled with anticipation as they stared at each other, the seconds dragging on as time slowed.

Lucifer licked his lips. Alastor’s gaze dipped down to follow the movement of his tongue. His smile turned lazy, slow – honey dripping on a hot day. He reached up, undid the first button of his shirt, and pulled the collar away from his neck so Lucifer had a better view of the graceful curve of his shoulder and the firm sculpture of his chest. He swallowed, hard.

“You won’t keep a loyal subject waiting, will you, your Highness?” Alastor asked, his radio static like a live wire against Lucifer’s skin.

Lucifer grabbed his lapels and leaned in close, not sure if he was going in for a kiss or to tear Alastor’s head off.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

The first thing Lucifer noticed was a man with a TV screen for a head glitching out in the street behind them. The second thing he noticed was Alastor’s smile – huge, toothy, and so very pleased that Lucifer realized, a second too late, that he’d walked into one of Alastor’s traps again .

Alastor straightened up and re-tied his bow to cover up all his delicious, bare skin. Even though Lucifer knew he’d been played for a fool, he still felt a pang when he saw it disappear.

“Are you two–” Vox couldn’t finish the sentence. His screen stuttered, turning rainbow, then flipping to a test screen, before finally settling on the Blue Screen of Death. FUCK YOU ALASTOR.EXE was scrawled all over it.

“Actually –” Lucifer started, but Alastor cut in, slinging his arm casually over his shoulder as if they did that kind of thing every day.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alastor grinned, his red eyes gleaming bright with glee. “Maybe we are. Maybe we’re just very good friends .”

Vox’s face flashed back on screen, his mouth open so wide it looked almost like a glitch in the matrix. “You – I thought you didn’t…?”

“Didn’t what, my good man? You must start finishing your sentences. How is anyone supposed to have a decent conversation with you if you don’t? But I suppose that silly moth man you keep around might not mind. He doesn’t seem very bright, does he?”

“Leave Valentino out of this!” Vox roared.

“Or what?” Alastor sneered over Lucifer’s shoulder. He was still hanging off of him like he owned him. As much as Lucifer hated it…it wasn’t a terrible feeling. “Or you’ll sing a silly little song about me again? Hack into my radio signal? Is that really all you can do – cause me a few technical problems?”

Vox wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. His eyes were glued to the two of them, taking in the casual way Alastor was touching Lucifer, at the button Alastor had accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to re-button, and the hand Lucifer still had curled around Alastor’s lapel.

“But you don’t –” he tried again. “I asked you! You said no!”

“It looks like I found a better offer,” Alastor said. He looked positively demonic as he delivered the blow, his eyes glittering with euphoric glee as he watched Vox sink down from disbelief into a black cloud of depression. As much as Vox annoyed him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the man.

But that didn’t stop him from doing what he did next.

Lucifer looped his hand around Alastor’s neck and pulled him down so they were face to face. Before Alastor could react, he pressed his mouth to his.

Alastor’s lips were cold. They were as icy and hard as the man himself, but his taste…he was like spice and smoke, like cinnamon and poison and the woods in the summer. He tasted better than all of Heaven and the Earth, and for the first time Lucifer understood why humans got addicted to their silly little drugs. If it felt anything close to this…

Alastor broke the kiss first, his eyes hooded and unreadable as he pulled back. He licked gold from his teeth, and Lucifer realized with a start that he was bleeding. Alastor brought his fingers to his lips and licked the dripping gold off of them slowly, his eyes never once leaving Lucifer’s.

It was the single most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He felt dizzy, drunk with desire in a way he’d never once felt with Lilith.

“Assholes!” Vox’s sudden exclamation brought them both back to reality. “Don’t eye-fuck each other while I’m still here!”

Snarling, Lucifer whirled around. “Do you mind? We were in the middle of something here.”

Vox cringed backwards, his hands flying protectively over his face. For a brief second, he looked terrified . Lucifer looked at him strangely, wondering what his reaction was all about, when he saw red horns out of the corner of his eye.

He’d transformed?

He glanced at Alastor, who was staring at him with an expression he’d never seen before. If he had to describe it, he would say Alastor looked…proud.

Alastor pulled Lucifer to his side, so smug it practically rolled off of him in noxious waves. “You heard the man. Or rather, shall I say the king?” Canned laughter roared through the street. Vox flinched at the not-so-subtle reminder of exactly who he was dealing with. “It’s been fun catching up, but we must be off. Lots to do, lots to see!”

Waving merrily at the glitched-out TV, Alastor pushed open the door to Rosie’s shop and ushered Lucifer inside. The second the door closed, Lucifer whirled around, glaring at a wholly unrepentant Alastor.

“You planned that.”

Alastor grinned. “Of course I did.”

“You used me.”

He raised his brow. “My dear, I am a demon . Surely you can’t be too surprised I dabble in deception?” His expression darkened. “That fool interrupted my show. That kind of behavior must be punished. Besides, I daresay you used me a little bit yourself.”

Lucifer’s cheeks reddened and his mouth watered at the thought of that kiss. That magical, wonderful, positively wicked kiss.

“Ah, ah!” Alastor wagged his finger at him, as if he was a naughty child and not a fallen angel powerful enough to blast him halfway back to Earth. “There will be no more of that today. You’ve got your payment.”

Lucifer sighed. For a man who hated physical contact, he sure could be a massive tease. He was even worse than Angel Dust. “What was Vox talking about? What did he ask you?” What did you say no to?

“He asked me to join his team. A waste of breath, if you ask me. As if I’d ever stoop so low.”

“Just his team? As in, business partners?”

“Why? Does it bother you, your Majesty?” Alastor teased.

Lucifer thought about the despair on Vox’s face as he took in the possessive way Alastor had grabbed his shoulders. The betrayal in his voice as he’d stuttered but you don’t–! The hurt as he slumped to the ground, the electronic nodes of his brain scrambling to understand that Alastor might be capable of wanting more – and that he just hadn’t wanted Vox .

Would Alastor do that to him one day? Would he leave him half-broken on the ground as he pranced off with his new rival of the month?

Lucifer turned away, unable to keep looking at him. “No. It doesn’t bother me at all.”

Alastor hummed, sing-song. “I appreciate your help in this rather annoying matter. I must say, it’s not so bad having a partner after all.”

Lucifer stiffened, hardly daring to breathe. “We’re partners?”

"Who knows?" Alastor shrugged. "I do so dislike labels. But this is the first time the idea hasn't made me want to vomit. And the look on Vox's face when he saw you..." His laugh was dark and more than a little insane. He wiped a few gleeful tears from his eyes. "I could get used to that."

Lucifer chuckled along, the possessive beast within him satisfied. For now. "I'm a better offer, huh?"

When Alastor looked at him, the odd expression on his face took his breath away. He took Lucifer's hand and kissed it, his sharp teeth grazing the thin skin there. "Certainly the tastiest I've had in quite some time."

Lucifer's heart thudded so loud in his ears it was all he could hear.

"You have any other rivals you want to piss off?"

#alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #jealous lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #duckiedeer #radioapple #appleradio #hazbin hotel

101 notes · View notes

somber-sapphic · 1 year

Note

Hey love I hope you’re doing well!! I have a small request lol today may or may not be my birthday and I was thinking a wandanat story about reader being sick on their bday. I give you totally creative freedom lol I hope you have a great day/night and thank you so much. Love you and your work ❤️❤️

-🎨

Birthday Wish

〖Notes: 🎨! Happy Birthday!! For me today ends in 30 minutes so this is admittedly rushed but I really wanted to give it to you! happy birthday!〗

〖Summary: It's your birthday and you aren't feeling well. You won't let that stop you from having fun.〗

〖Word Count: 1183〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You muffled a cough into your wrist and looked up at the sky, studying the splash of stars illuminating the night. Wanda and Natasha had apparently been planning this for weeks, a big party with your friends followed by a quiet picnic under the stars. You’d never been one to celebrate your birthday, you’d never been one to care, but you’d mentioned in passing one day several months ago and apparently, the girls had latched onto it.

Natasha had done some snooping and dug up past birthdays that you’d had while Wanda used her powers to feel out what you would truly want. They’d thrown you an amazing party with all of the Avengers, complete with everything you could’ve ever wanted. They made up for years of people forgetting your birthday or ignoring it even though they clearly knew it was happening.

The only issue was that now that you were in the cool summer air, laying still, you were noticing that the cold medicine that you had taken earlier was wearing off, leaving you with a stuffy nose and pounding headache.

You were trying to listen to Natasha and Wanda tell you about the constellations (they both knew a weird amount about stars) when you were doing your best to keep your nose from running while also not sniffling too loudly. They had done so much for your birthday, so much to make you feel loved and you didn’t want to ruin it with a stupid little cold.

“Ursa Major means “the great bear” and,” Natasha paused as you flinched against her, muffling a few quick sneezes into your arm. You looked up at her, her face illuminated surprisingly well by the stars, and found a pinched expression with worried eyes.

“Are you okay Y/n?” She asked, reaching over to cup your cheek. You sniffled and nodded, turning to focus back on the sky. You gasped as you saw something dart quickly across the sky, the bright light, and sat up quickly to point at it, enthralled by it.

“A shooting star!” You cleared your throat, alarmed by just how horrible you sounded. It sounded as though you had been forced to drink sand and hadn’t had any water in a decade. To be fair though, that was how your throat felt. Raw, scratchy, and painful. You really needed more medicine.

You bent forward and coughed into your elbow, wishing that the night wasn’t so quiet. All that anyone could hear would be your hacking coughs and gasps for air, not even the peeping of the frogs could distract them. And Wanda loved frogs.

“Woah, now that doesn’t sound good.” The witch remarked, patting your back while you tried to silence the coughs. You turned your head to the side and took a final deep breath, the tickle in your throat finally leaving you alone.

“Sorry guys.” You croaked out, your voice watery and small. There was no hiding anything from them now, even someone who wasn’t a highly trained spy or an empath who also happened to ha magical powers would’ve been able to spot you. A literal child could’ve deduced that you were sick. Hell, even a dog might look at you funny.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound good. Are you sick? You feel a little warm.” Natasha pointed out, while Wanda noticed how hard you were shaking.

“Baby, you’re shivering. Here, take this.” She shrugged her coat off and slipped it over your shoulders, rubbing your upper arms as you curled into her jacket. It was warm and it smelled like her. Well, it felt like her. You assumed it smelled like her, but you couldn’t smell anything, so that meant absolutely nothing now.

“You’re sick, aren’t you dummy?” Natasha nudged your shoulder with hers, a show of affection behind a joke. You shrugged, pouting slightly.

“It’s my birthday.” You whined, pulling your shirt up to sneeze into it. Wanda rubbed your back right in between your shoulder blades and began to trace little shapes across your spine.

She typically did that while you were laying in bed and she knew that it put you to sleep. When they were on missions you often laid awake, unable to sleep without her beside you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you weren’t really sure why. There was no reason for you to be crying. Maybe it was the unconditional love that you had always found yourself lacking. Maybe it was the fact that they had gone to all of this effort and you were ruining it. Maybe it was that now that the cold medicine was wearing off you were actually feeling the effects of the illness and it was making you a little bit miserable.

“Oh, Y/n/n, why are you crying?” Emotion must have been flowing off of you in waves because there was no way that either of them could see you crying, it was too dark. It had to be Wanda, able to feel the emotions that you were feeling. Natasha reached up and cupped your cheek, swiping away a fallen tear.

“M’sorry. I ruined it. You did something so nice and I ruined it, I ruined it.” You sniffled, rubbing your fist under your runny nose, cursing your lack of tissues.

“Y/n. Moy dorogoy. You didn’t ruin anything, we’re just sorry that you’re sick on your birthday. How about instead of sitting out here in the cold, we go cuddle up and watch your favorite movie?” She suggested, tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Yeah love, we can have popsicles and drink some water.” Wanda, your beautiful amazing witch, trying to make hydrating sound like a romantic activity. You loved them both so, so much. You sneezed into your fist and groaned softly, giving up completely.

“Kay. I guess. M’sorry.” They both told you to stop apologizing while Wanda helped you to your feet and Natasha began to clean up, gathering the picnic blanket and the basket full of half-eaten snacks. She threw the blanket over her shoulder and looped an arm in yours, the witch on your other side following her lead.

“You gonna make it?” The assassin asked, noticing that you were moving slower than you normally would.

“Mhm. I’m just a little dizzy. We’ll be back soon, right?” Wanda sighed and picked you up, ignoring your squeal of protest. You laid stiffly in her arms for a few moments, unsure how to take it, but decided that it really wasn’t that bad.

You put your head down and relaxed, confident that you were safe. You could literally be fighting aliens on a lava-filled planet and you’d feel safe as long as you were with these two women. You coughed quietly, followed by three sneezes which earned ‘bless yous’ and worried looks.

“You’ll feel better soon babe. I promise.” Natasha said softly, holding the door open for Wanda to carry you inside. It was slightly amusing, being carried over the threshold on your birthday. Under different circumstances, it would've been romantic. If not for your damn cold.

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

In addition to modern migraine Steve (my beloved) I would absolutely adore a oneshot of migraine Steve and chronic pain Eddie taking care of each other if that sparks any creative juices for you!

Thank you!!! I will give Steve a migraine any chance I get, which is really unfair and not cool, but it's just why not make the boy suffer more? But chronic pain Eddie? NEW TO ME. I mean obviously there is so much potential to be explored and boy I hope I explored it enough in this for you. Hope you love it - Mickala ❤️

-------------------------------------------------------

It was a bad day for Eddie.

His bones ached, his muscles ached, his scars, somehow, ached.

The clothes on his body felt like they weighed 100 pounds and were covered in needles.

The trek to the bathroom felt like a marathon and he was in dead fucking last.

He hadn’t always been like this; The pain hadn’t always controlled his life the way it started to after the Upside Down.

Sure, the injuries he sustained there caused problems, but they’d figured out that they’d just exacerbated what was already slowly happening in his body.

Fibromyalgia.

Wayne said it ran in the family, that some of them just had mild cases that were easily treated with pain meds, hot baths, and massages.

Maybe he’d get lucky and that would be it.

Or maybe luck left him long ago and he was stuck with the bad kind.

The kind that left him in pain always, but on some days, it was the kind of pain that made him wish the bats had achieved their goal of eating him from the inside out.

Some things did help dull the pain.

He took Tylenol like it was candy, probably destroying his liver in the process.

Sometimes just floating in Steve’s pool helped take the sharp pains away.

Hot baths helped if Steve served as his pillow.

Sleeping it away was good when his body let him do that.

Steve was still asleep in bed, lucky bastard. He wouldn’t have to hear Eddie’s groaning while he tried to just use the damn toilet.

He sat because it hurt to stand more than it hurt to sit, and let his head fall forward.

He heard footsteps coming into the bathroom and he sighed.

“Go back to bed, Stevie.”

“Bad day?”

Steve was speaking so low, Eddie had to strain to hear him.

Oh no.

“Mhm. Migraine?”

“Mhm.”

Steve walked over to the bath, turning the faucets until he felt their desired temperature.

“We don’t have to do this right now. You should go back to bed so your head gets better.”

“Wanna help you. It’ll help me, too.”

He was probably at least a little right about that. Baths did help his migraines sometimes too.

Steve poured the peppermint oil soap into the tub, which was specifically for their bad days.

It helped the pounding in his head and the shooting pains in Eddie’s body.

Eddie got up, removed all of his clothing, and let his back rest against the cool tile wall behind him.

It provided a bit of relief, like a full body ice pack, as he watched Steve strip off his sweatpants and boxers.

Steve got in, shutting off the water when he was sitting down, and relaxed against the back of the tub. He looked over at Eddie and nodded at him to get in.

Eddie slipped in slowly, his body screaming at him to stop moving, but also asking for relief in any form it could have.

He settled his back against Steve’s chest, sighing when the warmth of the bath and coolness of the peppermint helped ease some of the joint and muscle pain he felt.

Steve rested his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, fingers giving just enough pressure for him to know what he was wordlessly asking.

Eddie nodded.

Steve started rubbing his shoulders, making him moan with relief.

Steve kissed the back of his neck after a few minutes, letting him know he was taking a break and resting his eyes. They both tried to rest, tried to keep the pain at bay for just a bit longer.

Eventually, the water got colder. Steve didn’t like sitting in cold water, it sent him into panic attacks, so Eddie took one for the team and leaned up and over to drain the water.

He stood up and wrapped the towel hanging up around his waist, moving slowly to trick his body into thinking he was still in the warm bath.

He helped Steve stand knowing his migraines brought an imbalance in equilibrium, a nausea he couldn’t prevent when he moved too fast.

He wrapped Steve’s towel around his waist, ignoring the twinge of his elbows and back as he did so.

But Steve didn’t ignore it. He looked at him sadly and tilted his head towards the door.

They made it back to their bed, both somehow more tired than before, as if they’d actually run a marathon instead of just walked to the bathroom to take a bath.

They didn’t bother trying to dry off, dropping their towels and getting into bed naked and damp, letting the sheets do the work that they should’ve done.

It hurt to feel anything touching him, but something about the way Steve’s body curved just right into his, his hand resting over his worst scar on his abdomen, made it bearable.

Steve rested his head against his chest, letting out a shaky breath like he’d been holding it back until he could be comfortable in bed. Maybe he had been.

Eddie’s fingers found their way to Steve’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp in a way that he knew helped distract from the pulsing in his head.

They fell asleep like that, holding each other in the ways that helped, in the ways that made them feel like they could face another day despite the pain.

They slept their bad days away, together, until they found good days again.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #migraine steve harrington #chronic pain eddie munson #anon request #requests #soft soft soft #hurt/comfort

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devourable · 1 year

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trans smut be upon thee 🫶 ty for the compliments! no shame in learning smth new <3

cw : mild somnophilia

nsfw under cut! mdni!

🕷️ the alt kids | faust, delta, anton [ nsfw ]

· these three are VERY experienced, and it shows. they’ve been together for quite a while now, and they’ve tried out so many things with each other that they all know what they do and don’t like. if you give them any indication that you wanna get it on with them, you’re not leaving their room til they’ve each gotten a chance to work an orgasm or two out of you.

· faust is almost exclusively a stone top. they may let you play with their body if you REALLY want to, but they very heavily prefer focusing on doing what makes you feel good. their favorite thing to do is have you on your stomach, hands pinned above your head, while they rut into you from behind for as long as you can take it. their stamina is insane and they will go for hours with you if you give them half the chance.

· he’s also the most fond of using toys and has a wide assortment of them. straps of various shapes and sizes, vibrators, gags, leashes, etc etc. they love getting creative with how they make you feel good and use everything at their disposal to figure out what you like the most.

· they’re a big talker and love saying teasing you when they fuck you as well. from how dirty you are, to how much he wishes he could get you pregnant, to how good you sound when they make you cum, anything to make you squirm with his words.

· delta is a verse switch, though they veer slightly to the more submissive side. they’d willingly top any day of the week but they love just laying back and having you straddle them rather than take an active position. seeing you whine and moan while you ride them is always more than enough to get them going. when they bottom for you, they like it when you bend them over something and absolutely wreck them. they want to be able to feel what you do to them for days afterward.

· so long as they’re not super busy with something, delta is perfectly fine with being free use for you. need to work out some stress and they’re close by? they’ll happily be your living fleshlight/living dildo to help you out <3

· and if you’re okay with it, it won’t be uncommon for you to wake up with them between your legs. it’s so fun for them to watch you slowly wake up to being pleasured, all dazed and bleary as you’re pulled into the waking world by them making you climax.

“did i wake you up, dollface? my bad~ just relax and enjoy yourself for me, ‘kay?”

· anton is a service top, but she doesn’t mind bottoming either. he also likes focusing more on your pleasure than his own, but unlike faust, they don’t need to be persuaded to let you do the same to him.

· they actually like things that are a bit more intense than their partners’ tastes. knifeplay, breathplay/choking, tying or being tied up, and the like. of course he’d never just spring these things onto you — he’d wait quite a while until even mentioning that they’re into that stuff. the day you show any interest in their kinks, they’ll wanna jump with joy. she’d be SO elated that you trust her enough to do something like that with her.

· the least vocal of the bunch, but they really like leaning over you and getting close to your ear when they’re fucking you. they want to make sure you to hear their little groans and sighs of pleasure, and they wanna catch every noise you make too. it’s nice to make sure you’re both feeling good, y’know?

#inbox | anons #🕷️ the alt kids #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere nsft headcanons #yandere nsft #nonbinary yandere #nb yandere #trans yandere

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daboyau · 13 days

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Chapter seven of the Leave AU. You know the bandages and injuries we’ve seen on One and Two? We get an up close and personal look at what caused them this chapter, so be warned.

@boots-with-the-fur-club

@sharksandturtlesandspiders

@qwerty-keyboard-is-superior

When Draxum called him into his office, Four didn’t know what to expect. He’d thought that maybe this would be an impromptu medical exam or a punishment for his poor performance during the most recent joint training exercise. He tried not to think about what Two had told him, because if he thought about it then Draxum might notice that he was keeping secrets and then they’d all be in big big trouble.

The sight of the rainbow eyed yokai perched in the armchair in the corner of the room made his heart sink as he suddenly realized what he had been summoned for. It watched him, head turning slowly to follow as he inched deeper into the room to stand before Draxum’s desk, wishing he was the only threat to be faced. He’d seen the incisions and the bruises and the haunted looks on his brothers’ faces; he had been dreading the day that it would be his turn, too.

“You are aware that the Counsel has been conducting an inquiry and performing their own experiments,” Draxum began in a carefully measured voice, his lip curling in poorly disguised disdain for the practice. He hated when others tried to butt in on his experiments. Two had been disciplined for it a lot when they were younger, before he learned to just focus on his own work, even if their creator’s project was more interesting. “The others’ trials have already begun, but I deemed you too young at the time. As you are now the same age as Two and Three were for their first exam, the Counsel has decided you are old enough as well.”

Four nodded, unable to speak around the little knot of anxiety that had curled itself tighter and tighter inside his chest. The yokai rose from its chair and glided over on silent feet, the rustling fabric of its robes and the crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sounds in the room. It felt like even Draxum was holding his breath. Four’s eyes lingered on the duffel bag it had left sitting innocently on the floor beside the chair, mind racing with thoughts of what sorts of things might be inside. His gaze snapped back to the yokai as it got close enough to pose an immediate danger. His heart was hammering inside his chest, and he just hoped that neither Draxum nor this yokai would be able to hear it.

“What is your designation?” the yokai asked, which Four thought was a silly question considering he knew they’d already met his brothers and could have figured out on their own what number came next. Still, he swallowed down his worries and his annoyance and made himself smile.

“I’m Four.”

“Hm, yes, of course you are. Your master’s creativity knows no bounds,” the yokai drawled, tone dripping with sarcasm, and Four had to stop himself from cringing when he saw Draxum go stiff from the corner of his eye. He was practically radiating fury.

“It’s practical,” he began, but the yokai waved him off before he could say anything more.

“Yes, I’ve heard.”

It took everything in him not to snap his head between the two as they spoke over him. He didn’t want Draxum to think he was judging him or anything like that! But…he was surprised at how unconcerned the Counsel yokai was. Didn’t it know that Draxum could hurt them if he wanted to?

Four shifted a bit, and the rainbows in five of its eyes began to whirl and change as they tracked his movement. He watched, entranced by the colors and patterns, and the yokai stared back with its other two eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Four swallowed down his nerves and offered another small smile.

“Tell me what you are thinking,” the yokai commanded in a low voice.

“You have pretty eyes,” Four answered before he could think better of it, and immediately flinched back at the soft snort of displeasure he heard from Draxum. The skin around the yokai’s many eyes crinkled as it smiled, and despite the prickling nerves that were climbing up and down his shell, Four felt himself relax just the tiniest bit. Maybe the counsel yokai wasn’t that bad after all? Maybe he’d been misunderstanding what was going on?

“It’s more simple than the others, isn’t it?” the yokai hummed, pulling out a file with a picture of Four’s face clipped to the top of it from beneath its robes. It flipped it open, papers inside rustling as it shifted through them. Then, it grabbed a pen and scribbled something on one of the papers inside. Four wished he could see what it was writing. “No attempts at manipulation or masking its thoughts. Still just a naive child. It would be prudent to have the next batch mature more quickly. Your so-called warriorswill be of little use to the Counsel of Heads otherwise.”

“Of course.” Draxum’s voice was tight. The taste of blood filled Four’s mouth as he bit down on his tongue, sharp fangs piercing through it easily as he did his best to keep his expression from faltering and his hands from trembling. Though the yokai’s voice was smooth and light with amusement, its words didn’t seem very nice. They felt dangerous.

He tried not to think about white bandages and red blood and dark bruises and black stitches, but his eyes kept straying over towards the bag sitting innocently beside the chair. That was probably where the yokai kept all their medical supplies, right? What else did it carry around in that bag that could cause those wounds in the first place? The thought made him feel all jittery and sick.

“Where shall we begin our session today, Baron Draxum?” the yokai asked, its eyes narrowed as it smiled. It said his name like it was mocking him.

“In the lab,” he replied through gritted teeth. Four could see Draxum’s hands clenching and unclenching at his side. “As usual.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Easier clean up.”

Four locked his knees to hide the way those words made his legs shake. He didn’t complain or try to hide when Draxum turned and led them towards his lab. Neither of them seemed to mind that Four fell behind a little, toddling along on legs that felt more like jelly than anything else. All they cared about was that he didn’t protest when he was instructed to climb up onto the specimen table.

He had to hop a little bit to reach. It felt embarrassing to have the yokai see him struggle to climb onto the slippery metal surface, doing his best not to use his claws for grip and risk damaging it. He hoped Draxum wouldn’t be angry at him.

Four settled himself onto the edge of the table, legs swinging to bleed off some of the nervous energy, and he looked between Draxum’s blank expression and the yokai’s face. It was not smiling anymore, but its many eyes were alight as it stared back. He waited, not sure what else to do until he was given an order. He felt small and out of his depths in a way he wasn’t used to. At least during training he knew what was expected of him; he could fight, and then he could win or lose. Sitting on the cold metal table with both Draxum and the counsel yokai watching him, he didn’t know what the next step was supposed to be.

The counsel yokai placed a hand on his knee, stilling the swing of his legs. Its sharp claws pricked at his scales, and beads of blood welled up around them. The red looked too bright against the dull green of his flesh. Four swallowed hard around the fear filling his chest and blocking his throat, and when the yokai met his gaze it was only that lump in his throat that kept him from whimpering.

“Lay down,” the yokai said softly, claws still digging into his knee. Four did as he was told, resisting the urge to wince as the movement tore those claws from his flesh. His heart pounded heavy in his chest, beating almost painfully against his plastron. “If you squirm or fight me in any way, I will have no choice but to tie you down. You will not like it if I have to do that. Do you understand?”

Four nodded, unable to speak around the tightness in his throat. He took a deep breath, willing the burning in his eyes to go away, terrified that he would only make the yokai angry if he cried. His fingers curled at his sides and he did his best to focus on his breathing as the yokai’s hands prodded at his calves and ankles. He felt it pinch his Achilles tendon, tap at his knee, run curious fingers across his calf muscle, and dig its claws into the arch of his foot and the pads of his toes. It hummed thoughtfully, and then it withdrew. For one brief and foolish moment, Four hoped that maybe that would be it. Just a quick medical examination. (He already knew that was too good to be true.)

Then, he heard the rustling of fabric and the soft tinkling of metal against metal. The sound he made when the yokai appeared in his field of vision again with a scalpel would have been embarrassing in any other situation. It would have had One fussing over him with big sad eyes, and Three teasing him and trying to make him smile, and Two trying to distract him with long winded explanations about fear responses. All it did now was make the yokai tip its head, eyes narrowed and whirling, before it flashed him a small smile.

“No moving,” it reminded him. Four’s wide eyes darted towards Draxum, but his creator was turned away, head lowered and eyes shut.

There was the tickle of feather light touches over his calf again. They were almost gentle. He gritted his teeth, trying to be brave. Then, the scalpel replaced those careful touches, and all his tentative resolve was ripped away.

Four couldn’t stop the cry that ripped from his throat as he felt the blade trace a burning path up his leg. He knew that tensing up would only make it worse, but he couldn’t help it; it was all he could do to keep himself from thrashing and making the methodical cuts turn into jagged slashes.

He was no stranger to pain. He knew all about the blood soaked, adrenaline fueled sting of a fight, or the slow dull drain of a blood draw. He could endure hunger and thirst and exhaustion. He knew how to keep pushing through hour after hour of intense training, through bleeding and sores and trembling limbs. Draxum had taught him how to control his breathing and disappear into his own mind as he held his hands and carefully snapped the bones of each finger in quick, precise movements, and then set them right after so they would heal correctly.

This was nothing at all like any of that. It was slow. Methodical. Torturous.

Four clutched the side of the table, fingers slipping in the hot, wet, red. He didn’t know how it got up here. Had he torn off a fingernail while scrabbling at the metal, or was it because of arterial spray? The yokai made a low sound, something that might have been meant to soothe in a different situation. He was pretty sure it was just mocking him now, though.

Its hand was on his knee again, squeezing so tightly he was worried it might shatter his kneecap as it held him still. The scalpel traced another careful line from his ankle to where its hand rested, cutting through skin and muscle, scraping against bone. He could smell blood in the air. He could taste it on his tongue and in the back of his throat. He turned his head to the side, trying not to heave, afraid that if he did the blade would find the tendons and cut through those, too.

He’d been hurt worse before. He’d lived through broken bones and a cracked shell and bites that ripped and maimed and the way his brothers looked at him after they’d all torn each other to shreds. He knew what it felt like to press his hands to a wound - both his own and the people he loves - to try to stem the bleeding. He knew how to be hurt.

Somehow, this careful shredding and peeling of his leg was so much worse. The intent to cause him pain and the satisfaction the yokai was taking in it was new. He tried his hardest to think about his brothers as the scalpel brought wave after wave of agony. They had been strong, so that meant that he had to be, too. But the pain seemed like it was never going to end, and as tears clouded his vision, he squeezed his eyes shut and wondered how much more any of them could take.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leave/remain au #rise mikey #medical experimentation #tw torture #basically #Lmk if you want to be added to the tag list #Hope you enjoy! Even though poor four has a bad time #Counsel yokai’s pronouns are they/it

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littlemourningstarr · 2 months

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Nothing More (Everything More)

What could have been a perfect day, ending in a brilliant night, takes a tragic turn with a visit from more of Astarion's kin. Astarion is forced to truly face his past with Cazador and how broken he feels regarding everything that was taken from him.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, trauma, hurt/comfort, discussion of past SA/noncon, past Cazador/Astarion, discussions of recreational drug use, body dysphoria, discussion of menstruation

A/N: I took a lot of creative liberties based on my own headcanons involving the spawn, simply because so much isn't strictly laid out in the game.

It was almost strange, rousing in a bed. Sekh couldn’t even remember the last bed he’d slept in- it had to be before the Nautiloid- but he was fairly used to sleeping on bedrolls, while traveling around.

He cracked his eyes open, his trance fading. He’d been reliving a day from his youth, when he was quite young, his father taking him out while he forged for materials for his alchemy, teaching him about the flora they found.

He smiled to himself. It was a fine memory. Against him, Astarion shifted, the arm he had tossed over the drow’s waist tightened. He made a little noise- almost like a whimper, and Sekh could feel his face distorting, pressing into the side of his chest.

Instinctively he ran a hand along Astarion’s back, over his bare scars. The man relaxed a little, as if he knew, even in his trance, that the touch was Sekh’s.

Sekh hated that Astarion’s trances were simply an endless loop of the last two centuries. Anything beyond his time with Cazador was so faded he seemed unable to grasp the memories. And if there was anything better, now- well, it was so recent that his subconscious didn’t seem to think it was worth reliving.

The drow wished the man could just sleep, that he could live in fantasies, dreams, while his body and mind rested. Sekh had met a few elves, in his travels, that had learned to sleep, said that it became quite easy, with enough practice. He wondered if Astarion might be open, to the idea. He had enjoyed sleeping when they’d taken Blurg’s potion, back in the Underdark.

They still had some of it, tucked away in Sekh’s pack.

Astarion shifted again, feet sliding against the bed, before Sekh could feel his eyes fluttering open, eyelashes tickling his skin. The elf lifted his head, curls bed tousled, and looked at Sekh with slightly blurry eyes.

“Good morning,” Sekh whispered, smiling, and Astarion simply dropped his head back down, fully onto Sekh’s chest, closing his eyes. He grunted, not yet pleased to be conscious, and Sekh chuckled. “Nothing good about it?” he asked.

Astarion huffed, rubbed his cheek against Sekh’s chest, seemed to be trying to steal his skin’s warmth. “Give me a few minutes to…” Astarion trailed off, before settling on, “forget.”

Sekh curled his arm around Astarion, rolled onto his side so he could face him. The elf grunted, displeased at being dislodged from his spot against the drow’s chest. Sekh leaned in, pressed the softest kiss to Astarion’s lips- pulling away as the vampire tried to kiss him back. “I have an idea,” Sekh offered, and Astarion quirked a brow, sliding one of his legs between Sekh’s- pressing his thigh right to the juncture of his legs.

“Oh?”

Sekh nearly laughed. “Not that,” he teased, even as his hand found the curve of Astarion’s waist, squeezing it. “I was just thinking… maybe you might want to learn how to sleep.”

Astarion frowned. “That is a far more boring solution.” Yet the frown didn’t reach his eyes, his voice laced in a teasing tone. “But it has its… merits.” He nestled into Sekh’s neck, breathed in the scent of his skin. Sekh let his eyelids flutter, fingers dancing along Astarion’s skin, under their blanket. The vampire mouthed at his throat lazily, didn’t seem to have a purpose other than to touch, to taste.

Sekh was just fine with that.

He sighed, felt Astarion push his thigh again at the juncture of his thighs- and it would have been so easy, so tempting, to grind against his cool skin, to let the vampire strip him to just his skin. It would have been joyous to let the man take him lazily- if they had privacy.

But they didn’t- and Sekh was quickly reminded of that when he heard Gale tossing in the bed next to theirs, huffing. “Please contain yourselves,” the wizard said. Sekh pushed himself up on one arm- Astarion making a frustrated little noise as he was dislodged from his neck.

Gale was staring up at the ceiling, trying very hard not to look their way. “We were,” he said, as Astarion pushed himself up, sitting with the blanket pooled around his lap, frowning.

“For now,” he mumbled, and Sekh bit back a laugh, as Gale groaned again.

“Ignore him,” Sekh said, even as he leaned his chin on Astarion’s shoulder, “no free shows for anyone, I promise.” Gale mumbled his thanks, before sitting up himself, climbing from the bed and stretching.

“Exactly, no free shows,” Astarion pointed out, “but for a price.”

“Astarion!” Sekh and Gale, at the same time. Gale, sounding horrified- Sekh unable to keep from laughing any longer. The vampire just shrugged, as Gale walked away, muttering about coffee.

Sekh perked up- Astarion must have felt it, because he dislodged himself from his lover, stood up to stretch himself.

Sekh unabashedly stared.

“You want that vile brew too?” Astarion asked, and Sekh nodded, forcing himself to look up at his face. The vampire had a cheeky little smile- and Sekh knew he’d been caught staring. Not that he would have bothered to hide it. Without another word, Astarion turned, and Sekh watched him trail after the wizard, took in the curve of his spine, that his pants seemed a little low slung on his hips this morning-

“Good morning!”

Yenna’s voice was loud as she bounded around the little privacy screen, hopping up onto the bed. Her cat followed dutifully behind her, jumping up himself and curling up, content yet watching.

“Hi you.” Sekh reached out, tapped her nose, grinned with the way her face twisted over it. “You sleep okay?”

Her first night had been rough, Sekh knew. He’d found her while Astarion had been hunting, curled up on herself, quite obviously trying to be as small as possible. She had jumped on the chance to not be alone, when Sekh offered.

He knew how helpful it had been, to have Syl with him, that first night after his parents’ death. And even if Yenna had been dealing with her mother’s absence for longer than that- Sekh had a feeling she hadn’t been processing it until recently.

Yenna nodded. “I don’t normally sleep in a bed. It’s huge.” Sekh laughed at that. Oh, did he understand.

“Me either,” he admitted. “Where did Karlach take you last night?”

Yenna’s eyes lit up. “Oh my gods everywhere. There was music outside and people just dancing- and Karlach bought me candy and then Wyll showed me the best place to climb if you want a good view of the city.” She was speaking so fast her cheeks were flushing, so excited she seemed to be buzzing. Sekh listened to a very descript explanation of a man that had obviously been drunk and had danced with everyone who came close.

Wyll had fallen victim to that. Oh, Sekh wished he had seen that.

As Yenna kept talking, Sekh glanced past her, noticed that her cat was still watching him. Something in his mind tightened, pulled- a familiar feeling. It wasn’t Syl herself, but something familiar.

His patron had been rather quiet, as of recent. She had her bouts of distraction, though- Sekh wasn’t concerned. Still, something was off about the cat.

“I wish you had come.” Sekh turned his attention back to Yenna.

“It sounds like I missed a lot,” Sekh admitted, “But I… needed to spend some time with Astarion.”

Yenna folded her arms, gave an almost pout. It was completely fake. “Your not husband.” Sekh flushed, but before he could say anything, Astarion was clearing his throat, standing next to their bed’s privacy screen.

“Am I interrupting something?” He looked slightly tense- but Sekh noticed perhaps a bit more comfortable than he had around Yenna the previous day.

“Hi!” Yenna said, rather loud, turning and looking at Astarion with huge, star struck eyes. Oh, Sekh understood.

Astarion sighed, but as he walked over, passing a mug to Sekh, he reached out, gave the girl’s wild hair a single stroke. The drow smiled over it, as he took the mug, wrapped his hands around it. Gods it smelled like heaven.

“Thank you,” he whispered, as Astarion sat on the edge of the bed, next to him. He took a tentative sip, the liquid hot but so welcome. It was nearly expertly sweetened, even had a hint of cream.

It was everything he missed about civilization.

“I could kiss you for this,” Sekh said, “you made it perfectly.”

Astarion cleared his throat, tapped his cheek expectantly, and Sekh laughed, leaning in and pecking his cool skin. Yenna burst into a fit of giggles over it, watching, quite obviously entertained by the two. “I simply made it as sweet as you,” Astarion teased, and Sekh flushed so deeply the color was creeping down his neck.

Gale, who had been heading back to his bed for something, promptly groaned and turned on his heel, walking away. It sent Yenna laughing harder- even had Astarion and Sekh chuckling.

“Can I have some?” Yenna asked, and without a thought Sekh passed her his mug. She seemed quite pleased to take a sip.

“Aren’t you a bit young for that nastiness?” Astarion asked, looking at the girl as if she had opened a vile of Wyvern poison and downed it in a single swallow.

“Mom always let me have some when she made it. You make it better though.” She took another sip, before passing it back to Sekh. “Why don’t you like it?”

Astarion seemed a little taken aback to be questioned. “It’s bitter,” he said, and Yenna pointed back to the mug Sekh was sipping from.

“You made it sweet.”

“It’s just… not to my taste. It might have been once, but… I don’t remember.” It was a shockingly honest answer, Sekh mused. He had expected Astarion to just brush the girl off.

Yenna accepted it though. She hopped off the bed, her cat jumping down to remain close to her. “We can make some breakfast over the fireplace- I’ll use my paring knife and everything!” She looked proud of herself.

Astarion tapped his fingers on his thigh, obviously a bit tense now. Sekh lowered his mug, having drunk half the beverage already. “Why don’t you go hunt down poor Gale and see if he had any ideas.”

“But what do you want?” Yenna asked. And it was adorable, that she was obviously fishing for information to make Sekh and Astarion breakfast, but-

“I can’t eat,” Astarion admitted, and Sekh glanced at him. Yenna looked confused, and Astarion gave a toothy smile then, fangs on full display, and pointed to them. It was almost comical.

Yenna was quiet for a moment, before she just shrugged her shoulders. And that was simply it. She moved on to chasing down Gale, as if nothing had happened, leaving Sekh and Astarion to sit there and stare at the space she had taken up moments ago.

“I don’t think that girl is afraid of anything,” Astarion concluded. Sekh leaned against him, knowing that was entirely untrue, and yet completely correct, at the same time.

Sekh was standing by his bed, fidgeting with his hair, when he heard Karlach and Shadowheart speaking in excited, hushed voices close by. He left his hair down for now, the tie wrapped around his wrist, and walked over to the single step to the enclave- folded his arms and watched.

Karlach was crouching by the center of the room, examining the hookah that had gone ignored, their first night. Sekh had noticed it after his bath, but had shrugged it off- his mind had been reeling with thoughts of Astarion, and he simply couldn’t have cared about anything else.

“The shit you could smoke in Avernus would knock you on your ass,” Karlach teased, as Shadowheart rested her hands on her hips.

“Well, we’re not in Avernus, so I imagine whatever we find will be quite boring for you, then.”

Sekh chuckled, gave himself away. Both turned to look at him, and he gave a single, silly little wave. “Sorry, got curious,” he admitted, walking up to them and crouching down with Karlach. “I wondered if anyone was going to notice this.” It looked to be in good working order, from a quick glance. It was in better condition than most of the hookahs Sekh found at other inns, while he traveled. “I’m sure Alan downstairs can point you both in the right direction if you want to smoke something.”

Shadowheart and Karlach glanced at each other, before Shadowheart smirked, positively wicked. Oh, she was thinking something. “Sekh, you like to mess with herbs…”

Oh, he knew where she was going. And he laughed. “Babygirl I’m a drow. Whatever I make you will knock you on your ass for days.”

A hint of color rose on Shadowheart’s cheeks, but Karlach was ignoring it, standing up and pulling Sekh with her. “Soldier you just volunteered yourself!” She threw her arm around him, pulled him tight to her, and Sekh choked on his continued laughter.

“Okay, okay,” he said, “just don’t suffocate me.” Karlach released him and he rubbed at his neck, even as she rolled her eyes. “Let me grab my bag and go see what I have. I might have to let some things dry overnight, so you’ll have to be patient.”

Karlach waved him off, turning to throw her arm around Shadowheart, who had seemed to compose herself after Sekh’s remark- only to get a tinge of color, again. Just the slightest.

Sekh left them to it, not wanting to interrupt. He grabbed a smaller pack he kept just for his alchemy and headed up to the roof. It was bright already, warm- but he could feel a pleasant coolness on the breeze, from the harbor.

Alfira wasn’t here yet- but he assumed Lakrissa wouldn’t be working until later. He sat down away from the hatch, opening his bag and sifting through what he had. The few items he’d grabbed in the Underdark were quickly depleting, which was a shame. He imagined it might be a bit harder to come across those herbs topside, even in a city like Baldur’s Gate.

He hefted his research tome from the bag onto his lap and began flipping through it. He bypassed his section on spells, reaching the back half dedicated to alchemy. While he didn’t want to risk their safety, he did feel a bit challenged by Karlach to make sure whatever he crafted was good.

He bypassed his own notes, plucking out one of the loose leafs of paper instead. It was scrawled in a far nicer handwriting than his, the letters looping like a figurative breeze across the paper. He was contemplating the few recipes listed, when he heard the hatch door to the roof open. He glanced over, caught sight of white curls, and turned back to the paper, as Astarion hoisted himself out and walked over.

The vampire sat down on the ground next to him, folded his legs and eyed the mess of tied and bottled herbs, around Sekh. “What sort of mad sorcery are you up to, my sweet?”

Sekh set aside the paper he was holding, pulling out another one. “Karlach and Shadowheart want to get so high they meet the gods,” he mused, and the way Astarion choked. Sekh glanced at him as the vampire tried to recover, before looking back at the new page.

“And you’re going to indulge them?” Astarion asked, sliding closer, leaning his cheek on Sekh’s shoulder. They were sitting so the sun fell directly over them, and Sekh could feel Astarion relaxing in the heat.

“Not exactly,” he said, “I’m not going to lay them up for days. But I can make sure they have a good night.” He tapped the paper he was holding, sure that he could make this recipe work.

“They could just go buy something. This city has every vice available at every corner.” His eyes tracked to the page, and the vampire hummed. “That’s not your handwriting.”

Could he recognize Sekh’s on sight?

“It’s far too clean.”

Oh. “Thanks,” Sekh mumbled, “but no, it’s not. It’s my father’s.” He set the paper aside, as Astarion lifted his head from his shoulder.

“You said he…” Astarion trailed off, cleared his throat, and Sekh smiled softly.

“What? Was a courtesan? Yeah, he was. You don’t have to be coy about it.” Sekh reached up, brushed his knuckles affectionately against Astarion’s cheek. “Unless it makes you feel better. But he and my mother never hid his work from me. Seemed pointless.” Sekh glanced back down at his book, at all the loose pieces of paper protruding with his father’s hand writing. “His alchemy was a hobby, but also a reason he was… popular. He could ensure those uppity houses threw unforgettable parties.”

Astarion laughed at that, and Sekh smiled more. “Well, I imagine the sight of all of those tight ass drow half naked and high as the heavens must have been amusing.”

Sekh snorted. “You have no idea.” He reached down, toyed with the ring on his middle finger, spun it once, an idea coming to him. “We’re not going to have these tadpoles forever.”

Astarion frowned. “I hope not, darling. That is part of the whole point of this sordid mess we’re in.”

Sekh pinched his lips together for a moment. “What I mean is…” Sekh cleared his throat. “Do you want to see him? See them?”

Astarion inclined his head, quietly mulling over the invitation. Sure, Sekh had used the connection once to share the first time he met Syl- but he hadn’t, otherwise. He resisted using the tadpole as often as possible. He knew Astarion was aware he didn’t like the way it made his head feel.

“Are you sure?” he finally asked, and Sekh nodded. Eventually- hopefully soon- he would never have the chance. He knew Astarion could never meet them- but at least glimpsing Sekh’s memories of them-

Well, it was something.

Sekh nodded, turned himself to face Astarion. The vampire reached out, took one of his hands, began to fidget with Sekh’s ring, a little smile creeping onto his face. The drow could see Astarion was wearing his, as well. “If it becomes too much, just stop.”

“Worried about me,” Sekh teased, as he closed his eyes.

“Always.”

It took a moment for Sekh to encourage his mind to fully open- but he reached for Astarion, his tadpole calling to the vampire’s. It was shocking, how quickly and easily Astarion opened for him.

Sekh tried to call up fond memories, reached for anything his subconscious had to offer. What he got was a rather warm evening, as Baldur’s Gate melted away around him, taking shape again as his childhood home.

He was sitting on a stool, pulled up to his father’s work bench. Notes were scattered all over the table in a mess- and oh, that desk was the one thing his otherwise exceedingly tidy father allowed to be in sheer upheaval. It was as if his mind worked too quickly, that there was simply no time to pause and tidy up.

The man was leaning over his desk, watching eagerly as he added just a pinch of something, and whatever liquid was in the beaker he was working at suddenly turned from a slightly cloudy gray to a brilliant blue.

Sekh felt his childhood heart racing with excitement, as his father grinned. His ginger hair was undyed, all pushed back behind his ears, against the nape of his neck. He had been working on a new batch of dye- but that sat ignored, at the end of the bench.

“See Sekh,” he said, and the sound of his voice shook Sekh. Even in his trances, it never felt so clear, so true. A deep rumble from the man’s chest. “Even if you’re unsure of the outcome, it's worth the experiment.”

“So long as it doesn’t burn our house down.”

Oh gods, his mother. Her lyrical voice, always laced with a smugness that was well deserved. Yet it was not unkind, in this moment- no, only bemused at her husband’s experiments.

She came into view, tall for a drow, slender built and lithe, but with muscles along her scarred arms that could easily heft the largest of swords. She was smiling, ruby eyes looking at her husband with sheer delight.

She had been classic, aside from her height, when it came to drow beauty. While Sekh’s father’s skin was a dark dusky- like his own- his mother’s was a softer stone, her hair a sheer, blinding white, pin-straight and pulled into a tight ponytail.

She reached over, gave Sekh’s hair a stroke, as she leaned against her husband’s back, looked at his experiment. “What does this one do, my love?”

The man grinned. “Let’s go find out.” He stood up, his wife stepping back, and grabbed the beaker. Sekh hopped off the stool, nearly running to keep up with his father’s excited steps, his mother waiting outside the door for him, ushering him on.

Their house wasn’t large, but it sat back, just slightly from town. Sekh could see the bustling main street if he stood on his tip toes- but the space meant that behind their house, there was little but the opening maw of the Underdark.

Sekh’s father paused, waiting for the rest of the family. “Take a look,” he said, gesturing to the warm, wet patch of soil in front of him. It had been upturned a few days prior, when he had planted a fresh batch of Bulb Fruit. Sekh knew they grew quickly, and by the month’s end he’d be harvesting them already.

Without another word, he tipped the beaker, gently pouring the liquid along the patch. Sekh waited on bated breath, red eyes large and staring eagerly at the ground. Next to him, his mother had her hand on his shoulder.

For a few moments, nothing happened- and then Sekh could smell the soil heating up. It shifted, and suddenly young stalks began curling up. What would have taken over a week to grow suddenly sprouted in seconds, before the soil cooled and settled.

Sekh’s father grinned. “Well look at that. I was hoping it wasn’t going to kill them…”

“But you weren’t sure?” Sekh’s mother- and oh, she knew the answer. Of course he wasn’t. That was part of the fun. “Metias.”

“Sekh’lynne,” he said back, teasing. Sekh’s mother- Sekh’lynne- reached over to her husband, pecked his cheek, as Sekh crouched down, looking at the little curling stalks.

“I hope you wrote down that recipe.” Metias shrugged a shoulder, said something along the lines of oh I’ll remember, and Sekh glanced back, looked up at them-

Happy. Smiling at each other, aglow from the various flora that dared to grow so close to their home. Metias’s cheeks were bunched up with his grin, the freckles Sekh had inherited less prominent in the light.

“I remember it,” Sekh said, standing up. Gods his voice was so different, to his own ears. He sounded so much more like his mother-

It was before-

“That’s my girl,” Sekh’lynne said, “someone has to keep your father in line when I’m not looking.” She pushed at her husband. “Come now, back inside before she forgets. I don’t want to see you kill your plants trying to recreate this.”

Metias mumbled to his wife, turning back towards their home, while Sekh walked a few steps behind, an uneasiness twisting in his belly. Seeing this, he could remember feeling it, more and more around this age, until it all culminated-

He didn’t mean to share the next memory, with Astarion. But his mind made the connection, and suddenly he was in the darkness of his bedroom, and gods this was only weeks later, he knew.

He was sobbing. Sobbing so hard his shoulders shook with it, as he tried to bite back any noises. Despite the darkness, he was staring at one of his hands, at the red smears along his fingers. It matched the blood on his thighs.

He didn’t want his parents to hear him. He didn’t want the world to hear him. He wanted to close his eyes and make it all disappear. He didn’t want, he didn’t want, he didn’t want-

The memory broke as Sekh’s eyes snapped open. Without meaning to, he was pulling back, leaning away from Astarion. The vampire’s eyes fluttered open as well, as his hand tightened around Sekh’s.

“I’m sorry,” the drow said, “you weren’t supposed to see that.” He cleared his throat, looked away- more embarrassed than anything. When he tried to pull his hand away, Astarion held firm. Sekh glanced back at him, but only found concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and Sekh sighed.

“Yeah.” He shifted his hand, so their fingers could lace together. “I hadn’t even thought that… well… that was before…” Sekh cleared his throat. “I was still their daughter. Or they thought I was.”

When Sekh thought of them, it was so easy to forget there had been a time they didn’t refer to him as their son. When they had found him that night, sobbing alone, there had been not a single moment of hesitation, once they had coaxed the words from him.

Astarion reached out with his free hand, gently cupped Sekh’s cheek, leaned closer. His eyes flicked to Sekh’s lips, and Sekh closed the gap himself, kissing Astarion gently.

“You’re quite the man to me,” Astarion whispered, between kisses, and Sekh broke away, pressed his forehead to Astarion’s and laughed. The vampire frowned. “What?”

“You’re not nearly as smooth as you pretend to be,” he teased, before adding, “but thank you.” He pecked Astarion’s lips again, before pulling back, pulling his hand free to look back at the mess he had left out. “I think they would’ve liked you,” Sekh said, as he picked up a bundle of herbs, gently plucking a few free. “My mother would’ve thought you were the most handsome thing she ever saw.”

“Well she’d be quite right,” Astarion pointed out, watching Sekh work. Watching, in a way, like Sekh had watched his own father. Intrigued. Sekh shook his head, continued to work quietly. He could feel Astarion’s eyes on him.

And as the minutes passed, felt a little tug, against his finger. He glanced at his ring, before looking back at Astarion. “Are you thinking something?”

Astarion quirked a brow, and Sekh glanced down at his own hand.

“It’s tingling.”

“It’s absolutely nothing,” he said, but Sekh held his stare. After a moment the vampire sighed. “Honestly, my sweet, don’t worry about it.” The vampire cleared his throat, adding, “It’s not… appropriate.”

“Well now you have to tell me,” Sekh teased. “Because for you to think something is pushing a boundary- why, I just can’t fathom.”

He was teasing. He knew Astarion knew, as the man reached out, shoved at him playfully. After a moment, Astarion exhaled, glanced away, as if he couldn’t exactly meet Sekh’s stare. “I hadn’t thought about you…bleeding.”

That was all he was curious about?

Sekh almost laughed. He could understand Astarion’s trepidation based on the memory he had seen- but any real discomfort Sekh had felt about menstruation was long dead and buried.

“You’re sweet to worry it would bother me. It doesn’t.” He laid a hand on Astarion’s knee, squeezed affectionately. “And if it makes you feel better, my parents found me that night, and they never once told me I was wrong for being upset. I was their son that night, and every day after.”

Astarion nodded, looking at the hand on his knee. “Do you still?”

Sekh waved his other hand. “Yes and no. I… after their death, I played around with a lot of flora and alchemy, to try and… make me seem more, well, me. I think I broke a lot of myself. But don’t worry love, when it eventually does happen again, I’ll make sure you know.”

Sekh winked, and Astarion flushed, those eyes going dark, pupils seeming to blow instantly. Sekh wasn’t exactly sure how he expected Astarion to react-

But this was definitely a fine reaction, in his opinion.

The day was warm, the streets bustling with life once the party made their way from the Elfsong. They had agreed to split ways, cover as much of the city as possible. Orin still lurked somewhere completely unseen, and Sekh got a cold chill down his spine every time he saw one of Gortash’s Steel Watchers lumbering about.

Not to mention the way the city shook, from time to time. Astarion confirmed that had not been happening, prior to his abduction.

Sekh tried to catalog the sights as they walked, head swiveling from side to side, taking in shops, homes, passerbys. There was so much to see- it truly made him realize he hadn’t spent time in a city this size, ever.

“Your head is going to fall off that pretty neck of yours,” Astarion mused, next to him. Sekh flushed slightly.

“There’s just so much to see.” He paused for a moment, Karlach and Shadowheart continuing ahead of them. “I feel like this is a whole different world.”

Astarion tipped his head back, blatantly enjoying the sun warming him. “It can be quite something,” he admitted. Sekh wanted to ask if Astarion had any special places in the city, anything he felt was worth seeing- but the thought was cut off by an excited cry, ahead, from Karlach. Sekh jerked his head in her direction, watched her bolting up a set of stairs to what appeared to be a forge-

And lifting a very familiar tiefling into her arms.

Sekh and Astarion hurried after her, Shadowheart beating them up the steps, as Karlach spun around, holding Dammon in a tight hug.

“Karlach don’t suffocate him,” Shadowheart teased. Karlach held onto him another moment, before setting the man down. Dammon smiled- ah, as charming as ever, to Sekh’s memory- and straightened his apron.

“It’s good to see you again too,” he said, “how’s that engine?”

“Still holding up. Want to give it a listen?” Dammon leaned in, settled his ear at Karlach’s chest.

Sekh noticed Shadowheart frown, and elbowed her. She glanced at him, and he raised both his brows, nodding towards Karlach. Say something, he mouthed, and she waved him off, walking away instead to pace the forge, nosing about.

Sekh was almost convinced she was worse than he and Astarion had been.

“It seems to be holding up,” Dammon concluded, “but it still won’t last forever.” Karlach waved him off, choosing instead to comment on the forge.

Turned out Dammon was faring quite well in the city. Sekh was happy to hear he had the forge at quite a reasonable rent, and was able to continue doing the work that he loved. Knowing he was thriving, that Alfira and Lakrissa were here and safe-

It was good, but it left a single open question in his mind- or, more accurately, a name.

Rolan.

“Have you seen any of the other tieflings?” Sekh asked, as Dammon was showing off a longsword he was working on to Karlach. He hesitated, before adding, “Lakrissa and Alfira are here and safe. But I haven’t seen Rolan. Or Cal and Lia.”

“Ah, your little pet wizard,” Astarion teased, sliding an arm around Sekh’s waist, “don’t make me jealous, my sweet.” His tone was teasing, and Sekh didn’t feel a single pull on his ring, not stings of true jealousy.

“I have seen him,” Dammon said, “further into the city, at Sorcerous Sundries. Only glimpses tho- and I haven’t seen Cal and Lia.”

Sekh frowned. He told himself, though, that if Rolan was here, then so were Cal and Lia. There was no way the man would have made the journey here and taken his eyes off them again. Not after Moonrise.

“See darling, he’s safe and sound.” Astarion’s voice was laced with relief as well, but Sekh chose not to push him on it. There would be other times for that. He went to ask Dammon more about his work, when he felt Astarion’s other hand at his hip, pulling his shortsword from his side. Before Sekh could move, Astarion had walked over to Dammon, was holding out the sword. “Sekh had a bit of a mishap- is this something you can fix?”

Sekh watched as Dammon took the sword, examined the shattered, jagged tip. He flicked the flat of the sword, seemed to be testing if there could be miniscule cracks stemming down the steel. After a moment he nodded, and Sekh felt his heart jump.

“Can you go a day without it?” Dammon asked, turning to Sekh. “I think for a friend I can have her fixed up by tomorrow morning.”

Sekh nodded- of course he could wait a day. He thanked Dammon, before casting a glance at Astarion, who was smiling. “You remembered,” he said softly, and the vampire huffed.

“That you broke your sword? Of course I did.” Sekh moved back over to him, trailed his fingers along the armor on his chest, whispered no, not that. Astarion’s gaze softened. “After what you showed me this morning,” he whispered, “do you think I would forget your mother’s sword?”

No, Sekh didn’t think he would. But it was joyous to be proven right.

Sekh sighed softly, the sound disappearing into Astarion’s mouth. The room slept around them, as the two lay near-silent, legs intertwined. The kiss had meant to be innocent, Sekh swore- but the way Astarion responded to him, how easily he slid along his body-

Well, it didn’t leave much room for innocent.

Astarion moved his mouth to Sekh’s jaw, as his hand slid along the curve of his hip, back to cup the drow’s ass. Sekh squirmed, eyelids fluttering, rocking forward against Astarion, heart jumping when the bed made the smallest noise. “We’re going to wake someone up,” Sekh whispered, as Astarion dragged his fangs along Sekh’s neck. The drow’s breath caught- Astarion hadn’t bitten him in quite some time.

Judging by the way the elf’s hips rocked at the contact to his fangs, he was missing it desperately.

“They’d be so lucky,” Astarion mused, trying to hike Sekh’s leg up, onto his hip.

Sekh couldn’t deny that having Astarion so openly want him again was mind numbing- and as tantalizing of an idea as it was-

“The roof,” Sekh breathed, as Astarion continued to kiss and mouth at his neck. The vampire glanced up at him, and Sekh could feel him smile against his skin.

Astarion threw the blanket off them, climbing from the bed. He was near silent on his feet, yet Sekh felt clumsy as he was pulled from the bed, the two crossing the room quickly. Sekh felt giddy, was fighting down giggles.

Felt like a youth, sneaking around, terrified of being caught.

They slipped from the room and began ascending the ladder to the roof. Sekh pushed the hatch open, pulled himself up, hadn’t even properly righted himself when he realized they weren’t alone.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, before they came into view- a man and a woman, appearing as mist, taking shape as they stepped onto the room. They became corporeal as Astarion straightened next to him, the silly sense of joy on the vampire’s face quickly melting away.

The man was eyeing Astarion, a look of subtle disdain on his features. The woman, a tiefling, seemed less displeased to see him.

“Astarion, brother,” she said, taking a few steps towards the two. “Peace. We’re here to bring you home.”

“The master needs us all for the ceremony.” The man, a human. “Come home and be reborn.”

Gods, they all believed Cazador meant to free them? Sekh wondered if it was a true belief, or the sheer inability to accept that Cazador could have a worse fate in store for them than he had already gifted them.

“I’m well aware of what the Master needs,” Astarion said, voice laced with disgust. He moved past Sekh, put himself between the drow and his kin. In nothing but his trousers, Astarion’s scars were prominent in the moonlight. “But don’t we deserve better? Haven’t we suffered enough for him?”

The human frowned, a crease appearing between his brows. “Better? How is there anything better? We’d finally have our freedom. We’d have our lives back.”

Astarion flexed his fingers, nails looking talon like. As he spoke, he seemed to bare his fangs, as if trying to prove something to these two. As if he could pull rank.

Sekh didn’t know what- if any- sort of hierarchy existed within the spawn. He didn’t know much at all, and he cursed himself for never asking properly.

“We can have our lives and end his,” Astarion pointed out. “After centuries of torment, I know what we all want. We want him dead.”

SIlence. So deafening that Sekh swore he could hear the water, along the bay. When neither spoke, Astarion squared his shoulders, fed his confidence on their wavering conviction.

“His rite will be mine. I will Ascend in his place- I’m the only one who can stop him now. I’m the only one he’ll fear.” He began moving towards the two, stopping when he was directly in front of the tiefling woman. “And I can set you all free. I can be your Master.”

Sekh’s stomach dropped. No. No, no, no- not this again.

“Astarion,” he said. The other two vampires jerked their gazes to him, as if they had forgotten he was there.

“Dal and Petras said you have changed,” the man mused, “but I think your ideas of grandeur have always been the same. You were just too much of a coward to voice them before.” He moved towards Astarion, sliding past the tiefling, and grabbed Astarion by the neck, lifting him a few inches off the ground. Astarion snarled, grasped at the man’s wrist-

The other vampire just watched, slightly bemused.

Sekh bolted across the rooftop then, reaching out to grasp the man’s throat, just as he was holding Astarion’s. He let free a torrent of necrotic magic, pouring so heavily into the man that the magic crackled along his hand, his arm, faint wisps of a pale green flitting in the air.

The human stumbled, and Astarion tore his nails into the man’s arm, raked them down so that blood welled up along the scarlet tracks. At the same time he kicked a foot out, got it directly in his stomach. His grip released, and Astarion stumbled back a step, as the other vampire fell directly to the ground.

But not without curling an arm around Sekh’s waist, dragging him down with him. Sekh didn’t care, he gripped his throat tighter, bared his teeth as if he had his own fangs, could feel his other hand growing warm, Syl’s shadows ready next.

The vampire grabbed his wrist, so tightly bone ground on bone, and pulled his hand away. The magical connection severed, as he panted, blood from where he had bitten his own tongue spilling down his chin.

He flipped Sekh onto his back with an inhuman strength, straddled him and pinned him there. The man bowed over Sekh, fangs bared, like he wanted to bite.

But it was an empty threat. Sekh knew he couldn’t. He was bound by the same rules that Astarion once was- and he couldn’t drink the blood of a thinking creature. Still, that didn’t make it any more pleasant or less unnerving as he quite obviously nosed at Sekh’s throat, inhaled the scent of his skin, his blood beneath.

“You reek of Astarion,” he mused, “I can see each little fracture of your skin, where he’s bitten you. Petras said he had a drow with him, but I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to fall for his charm for more than a night.”

Sekh made a fist, jerked his arm free, and punched the man square in his jaw.

The vampire reeled back, and as he did Astarion was there, wrapping his long hair around his fist and yanking him off Sekh. He dragged him a few paces away, as the man kicked his legs. “You ever touch him again, Leon,” Astarion said, “and I will rip your scalp from your skull and choke you on your own hair.”

He shoved the man down, and the other vampire finally moved, from where she had been watching, almost bemused. There really was no love lost in this family, Sekh decided.

Except she didn’t move towards the man- Leon- but with a supernatural speed, past Sekh and Astarion. Sekh turned his head, still sprawled on the ground, and felt his heart suddenly clawing up his throat.

They’d left the hatch open, and the woman was yanking a small figure from it by a thin arm, holding Yenna as if she was nothing but a piece of poultry.

“What have we here?” she mused, as Yenna squirmed.

“Let me go!” The girl yelled, pulling with all her might. Despite that the tiefling vampire was rather terrifying a sight, Yenna didn’t seem bothered.

“Aurelia,” Astarion said, his eyes honed in on her, as if the rest of the world was melting away. “Let her go.”

Aurelia quirked a brow, lifting Yenna’s arm higher, until her shoulder had to ache. “Curious brother, it almost sounds as if you care.” Astarion’s lip twitched, as Sekh pushed himself up, ignoring the ache in his back and shoulders from landing on the hard roof. “If I recall, you never had a fondness for children before.”

In an instant, Leon was at her side, looking curiously at Yenna. When he looked back at Astarion, his eyes were hard, enraged. “For all of the hell you gave me about Victoria, and you’ve got some pup following you about? Hypocrite.”

Yenna squirmed, before her free hand dug into her shorts- and in a quick movement, she was pushing something against the tiefling’s side. The woman snarled, but lost her grip, and Yenna stumbled forward, free.

She bolted across the roof, and it was Astarion that met her, gathered her up into his arms and lifted her, so her legs locked around his waist- held her with one arm as if she weighed nothing. Sekh relaxed a tick, let his eyes move back to Aurelia-

Who was pulling Yenna’s paring knife from her side and chucking it away. She looked ready to launch herself at Astarion and the girl, but Leon placed his hand on her shoulder.

“You were always weak, brother,” he said, watching Astarion. “You never fought him. You would never be able to kill the Master. No matter who you fool into aiding you, you won’t change.”

He nodded at Aurelia, who shot a final glare at Yenna, before the two burst into mist, just as Dal and Petras had. They became nothing at all, leaving the three on the rooftop with no sound except their heartbeats and the faint swell of the bay.

“What were you doing?” Sekh asked, closing the gap between he and Astarion, taking Yenna’s face in his hands and examining her. She didn’t fight him off.

“I woke up and something just didn’t feel right. And you were gone- and then I saw the hatch was open and I heard voices…”

Astarion tightened his hold on her, and Sekh could still see the panic dancing in his eyes. He recalled Astarion being so sure children didn’t belong around him-

And he hated that this was only feeding that bullshit.

“You stabbed a vampire,” Astarion finally said, as he let Yenna down. Sekh could see his muscles were still tight- he hadn’t wanted to let go of her. Yenna only shrugged a shoulder, and Astarion’s stare turned to Sekh.

Neither needed to speak, the single word radiated between them. Fearless.

“I’m… proud of you, for that,” Astarion said. Yenna brightened then, eyes dancing like the stars themselves as she looked up at Astarion. His face softened over it, Sekh could see the crease between his brows fading, just slightly.

“Let’s head back in,” Sekh offered, knowing that whatever tryst he and Astarion might have had planned was dead and well buried for the night. Astarion nodded, ushering Yenna back towards the hatch, his eyes refusing to leave her, or the space around her.

Watching, should anything else dare to lay its hands on her.

Sekh and Astarion both sat on Yenna’s bed, backs to the wall. The girl was curled up, finally asleep again, her cat curled up on her pillow directly next to her. It had been waiting frantically at the bottom of the ladder when they’d descended from the roof.

Neither had spoken, in the past hour or so. They’d simply sat there, looking out in the dark room, together. It had taken Yenna nearly that long to fall into sleep.

“If you want to go to bed,” Sekh said, his voice feeling so loud even at the softest whisper, “you can. She’s out.”

Astarion pulled his legs up, rested his arms on his knees. “You go.”

“I don’t want to leave her,” Sekh admitted, glancing back at Yenna. A part of him felt that if he took his eyes off her, she’d disappear out into the city again.

Astarion hummed. After a moment, he added, “I don’t, either.”

Sekh leaned his head against his shoulder. As much as he hated to see Astarion worry, he was glad for it now- it was simply further proof he didn’t hate the girl. Granted, after Astarion had admitted he felt children belonged nowhere near vampires, Sekh hadn’t believed he’d had a single ill will in his bones for the girl. Just fear.

“Should I expect a visit from the remaining two siblings?” Sekh asked. Astarion glanced at him, before looking back out into the room.

“I should hope not. I imagine next time, it will be all of them.” Sekh didn’t disagree. Obviously Cazador had sent Leon and Aurelia, believing they could bring Astarion home. When he realized they failed, Sekh imagined it would be all six, next. “We can’t wait for that.”

No, Sekh agreed. They couldn’t. It was time to face Cazador finally, and close the book on his wretched life- and all the torment he had caused.

“Are you ready?” Sekh asked, felt the muscles in Astarion’s shoulder tense. He reached up, traced the bones of Astarion’s hand slowly.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Astarion inhaled, turned his hand palm up so he could lace his fingers in with Sekh’s. Sekh squeezed gently.

“Can I ask you something?” Astarion gave a single nod. “Can you tell me about them?” Astarion turned his head then, and Sekh looked up at him. “Are they all so…”

“Wretched regarding me?” Astarion gave an exhausted, disgusted chuckle. “Mostly. But they haven’t seen everything I’ve seen- they haven’t been his for so long.” Astarion took a slow breath, and whispered, “I was his first.”

Sekh sat up then. He knew Astarion had been one of Cazador’s first spawn- but his actual first-

“At least the first of the seven,” Astarion added, “if there was anyone before me, I never knew them. Hells, Leon has only been around a few years.”

Sekh felt an anger coiling in his belly. To think the man felt he could judge Astarion, and he had only been in Cazador’s grasp for a few years, while Astarion had seen almost two hundred of torment?

He very much wanted to punch him again.

“I don’t know what deal he must have struck with Cazador,” Astarion added, “but it had to be something. His first night at the palace, he showed up with his daughter bundled with him, walked in as if he was invited, and not a slave.” Astarion took another breath. “I hated seeing that child. I hated every glimpse of her- she didn’t belong. She was damned because her father made a deal with our own devil.”

She was everything Astarion couldn’t have- Sekh didn’t need him to say it. And of course he had been even more upset over Yenna appearing.

“Whatever Leon expected to get out of this,” Astaron waved his free hand, “he didn’t. He’s nothing but a toy like the rest of us. And his daughter’s life is going to be a part of the price he pays.” Sekh took his hand from Astarion’s, slid it around his shoulders, pulled the man a little closer. Next to them, he heard Yenna sigh in her sleep. “One night, just before my abduction, I heard him…” Astarion trailed off for a moment, took a steadying breath, “while he was waiting outside the door to take my latest�� conquest.”

Sekh squeezed Astarion, and the vampire melted slightly into his side.

“She didn’t even notice I wasn’t looking at her,” he whispered, before pulling himself back from the memory. “I heard him saying he planned to turn her soon. He hadn’t wanted a child running around as his toy, but she was getting old enough that she could prove useful.” Astarion closed his eyes. “I tried to warn Leon, but he didn’t believe me- didn’t listen. None of them did, they all assumed I was nothing but Cazador’s favorite cock warmer.”

He spat the words, voice choking off at the end. And there it was, in the open. Everything Sekh had hated to assume Cazador did to Astarion, yet the man never voiced.

Astarion shuddered another breath. His voice trembled. “I haven’t been his favorite in a long, long time. But…” he paused, straightened up, looked at Sekh. “You need to know, you deserve to know, I was… once.”

“Whatever that bastard did to you doesn’t change anything, Astarion.”

“It does.” The words stuck, thick and tangled around Astarion’s tongue. “It does because once I… I think I enjoyed it.” He reached up then, covered his mouth, fingers trembling, eyes looking sick.

“Hey, hey, Astarion-” Sekh reached for him, guided his hand away, cradled his face in both his hands, “Starshine, look at me.” Astarion did, eyes frantic- and Sekh was so sure Astarion had never said those words before. “Whatever you gave him, he took. You didn’t give it to him freely.”

Astarion closed his eyes. “But he did take it.” When they opened again, they were raw, vulnerable. “When he first found me, when he offered me…this. I thought he was an angel. He saved me from death. Only…” Astarion’s lip trembled, and Sekh’s heart shattered, “Only to kill me again and again and again.” He turned, pressed his mouth to Sekh’s wrist, seemed to talk solace in the scent of his skin, the feel of his pulse, beneath his lips. “He treated me like a pet, those first few days. When he gave me his rules, he told me it was for my own safety. That I was too delicate for the decadence of thinking creature blood, and he couldn’t bear to see me struggle with it. And in the same breath he… he…” Astarion reached up, pressed a hand to his neck. “He reopened this, every night he fucked me until my legs were numb. And I sang for him, at first.”

He pulled from Sekh’s hands, moved to distance himself, put himself at the end of the bed. But Sekh reached out, grasped his arm, whispered Astarion, don’t.

The vampire stared at him with large, sad eyes. Glistening with all of those unshed tears from two hundred years. “I’m filthy,” he spat, “for every fucking bed I warmed for him. For every time I got on my knees for him- for the nights when it was good.”

“You’re not. Astarion, it doesn’t matter how you felt about what he did to you- he used you, he took you, he raped you.” Sekh pulled him a bit closer. “You didn’t know what he was, you are not to blame.”

“Perhaps I should be. I should have seen the monster- maybe I’ve always only been the pretty face the other spawn said I was. And nothing more.”

Sekh’s frown grew. “You’re so much more to me.” When Astarion tried to look away, Sekh reached out, gently gripped his chin, guided his stare back to meet his own. “You’re amazing. I’ve never looked at a single person and felt my heart come alive, like it does with you. I’ve never wanted to know the most mundane things about someone, until you. I could spend every second of the rest of my life with you, and it would be millenia too short.”

Sekh shifted closer, his other hand blindly searching for Astarion’s. The vampire took it eagerly, held on tightly.

“Whoever you were, the night Cazador took you- whoever you were, every night after- that’s not the same man looking at me.” Sekh’s hand slid down from Astarion’s chin, curled gently at his neck, fingers toying in his curls. “And the man looking at me is everything I never knew I wanted.”

“Sekh’met.”

His name was so soft, musical, delicate on Astarion’s tongue. And the way his pulse rushed through his veins, the way his mind reeled at just his name- it made everything he was saying so sure, so solid, written in stone in his belly, curved into the inside of his bones.

“Astarion, I love you.”

It felt natural, to say it. It felt like Sekh had said it a thousand times over. It felt like he had known, since before he had ever laid eyes on the vampire.

Astarion’s eyes went a little wide, and Sekh pulled him in, held him against his chest. Astarion grasped at his shirt, pressed his face silently into his chest, as Sekh cradled the back of his head.

“You’re more than Cazador made you,” he whispered, leaning his back against the wall and looking up at the ceiling, as Astarion clutched onto him. “You’re you- and you’re all I could have ever dreamed of.”

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #sekh'met #sekstarion #eternally yours #astarion/tav #astarion x tav

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jujutsukgojo · 2 months

Text

Sweet moments

yuuji itadori x reader

Summary: As repayment for the memories that are pure and cannot be tainted, you’ll support him in this game. Later, you’ll worry about everything. Right now, you have a game to watch and a friend who made you feel lighter than a feather in those sweet moments to cheer on. a/n: fluff and angst because of the reader's treatment at school. Kikyo from Inuyasha is mentioned but i dont own that. tw: bullying, sukuna's fingers, teeth, insecurities, if there are more let me know!

The principal sighs at your explanation. He knows how people treat you and has always questioned your home life. But this request you have for an occult club is a little much. How would it look for you? For the school that is only weeks away from the big game? It’s bad enough that the one student who could turn the tide of victory is refusing to join any sport. Soon, the principal will step in and force him too.

Besides, you know this anyway. You are aware of how people view you and the wretched things they say. The way you look, how quiet you are, how you stare at people, etcetera. It’s not new. Their bland thinking has been happening since you started elementary school.

“I know what people will say. But this club I think will help others. Not everyone is fit for sports.” You say the last with disgust. This school has an emphasis on sports. It's a little revolting on how much they prize it.

“There are more clubs than sports, (Y/n).” He places his pen down, away from the form that needs his signature. “What about decorating? I see how your locker looks. I think that club could use some of your creativity!”

“Sir, none of the clubs want me. And being in one is a requirement. I’m not trying to be difficult.” You bluntly state. It’s not false, either. And he knows this. He just wished that it wasn’t. Although he means well right now, you didn’t fail to notice how he jumped when you appeared at his door.

He falls silent for a second. “There has to be at least three people in order for this club to be valid. If you can find others, then I’ll sign.”

“What happens if I don’t?” You tap your feet against the wooden floor and bite your lips. He rubs his balding head and finally says, “Then I’ll assign you to one. One that doesn’t involve a lot of personal interaction.”

You hold in your wince.

“Okay.”

____________

You look around and try to find people that don’t fit in as much as they want to. A girl in the corner standing with a boy looks at you nervously. She wears a yellow vest and large glasses. The boy is a lot taller than her, you note. The other students ignore them as they pass. Clearly, the girl wishes to be acknowledged as she tries to inject herself in a conversation between two people talking about school dances. Witnessing it is a little awkward and sad.

You get a little closer and hear them talk about the paranormal and questioning old history, giving up on trying to talk to others. They’d be a nice addition to the club. Not only are they talking about topics that the other high schoolers wouldn’t, but you also actually have things like that! They’d have fun in your club.

“Join my club.” They jump a little at your sudden appearance.

“Why?” The girl stutters. She tries to back away but is blocked by the wall. You're nowhere near her enough for her to act like this. “Join.” Is all you say.

If they like spooky things, then they’ll like it too! They nervously nod and jot down their names on the petition in your hands. Suddenly, you feel someone at your side.

A boy with pink hair and an undercut looks down at the petition. “Occult club?”

His question gained a few snickers. Obviously, none are towards the all-star. The strongest, fastest boy here. The embodiment of sunshine and a social butterfly. He irritates you. Of course, you should have expected this.

Distantly, you hear that it’s a club fit for you. That you’re assaulting these people and about how no one in their right mind would want to join. Desperately, you want to believe that their whispers bounce off of you, but you can’t. It still hurts a little and probably always will. How they look at you, poke and tease the littlest things you do, all of it. To this day, you cannot figure out why they have such a problem with you.

“I’ll join!” Yuuji Itadori writes his signature. “Sounds like fun. Do I need to bring anything?”

“No.” You take the paper and head to the principal’s office. “It’s right after school, by the way.”

___________

You’d be lying if you weren’t a little excited. When you proposed the club, you had already had something with you. One of the ancient fingers that've been in your family for years. Two of the three other people in the club cautiously enter the room. The girl, Setsuko, and the boy, Takeshi, sit down at the table in the chairs farthest from you. “Welcome, you two.”

Setsuko gives a slight wave. “Where’s Itadori?” Takeshi’s head pops up. He has a little sweat at his hairline. “Y-yeah! Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s not here yet. I’ll give him five more minutes until I start and show you guys my surprise.” You can literally hear their gulps. Not even two minutes later of complete silence, Yuuji swings the door open. “I’m here!”

“You broke the door, Yuuji.” You tsk. He gives a slight blush and rubs the back of his neck. “Whoops…”

Takeshi quickly pats next to him and encourages Yuuji to sit there. Yuuji ignores him completely much to his dismay. Then, a voice interrupts. “That’s his first name.” Setsuko says. You nod and say, “I know that.”

“It’s inappropriate to say it if you-”

“I like it! Keep saying it, okay?” Yuuji says. He sits down next to you. “So, what are we doing today?” Takeshi looks a little defeated when Yuuji sits next to you.

“A history lesson and my surprise!” You take out an old book, one that only a select few have, about the legendary Sukuna Ryoumen. “Here’s the thing, there are more than one story of this guy,”

You flip the page to show them a drawing of him. He’s a large figure with multiple limbs and two faces. He sits on a throne that lies on top of several bodies and skeletons. The area has what looks like rib bones over the ceiling and the ground is painted with red. He’s shirtless, showing his broad build and lengthy tattoos. In his upper left hand is a unique staff. Just by the picture he looks brooding and scary. He leans his face on his upper right hand.

“Sukuna is notorious for his hauntings. It only occurs when you have an artifact of it. Like it’s cursed or something.”

“Is the book the…” Takeshi points to it. “No, this is.” You quickly put his finger that is wrapped in a sacred seal on the table. “He is said to have had two arms, legs, and faces. I have several of these fingers. This one in particular,” You turn it around for everyone to see. “Is his pinky on his second right arm.”

Yuuji ohs and ahs, while the others look horrified. “Where did you get it?!”

“I have a lot of stuff like this. Anyway, it’s definitely his. Please sit down so I can tell you two versions of his story.” Takeshi does as you ask him. Setsuko is shaking like a leaf.

“The first is the most common tale or myth. It says Sukuna was the emperor’s enemy and had multiple limbs. A man who fought the government and was hailed a hero. Nowadays, he’s a small deity. But there’s another story, my favorite one.”

You flip to another page that shows his large figure with someone in front of him. In Sukuna’s hands is a bowl with a white layer on top. “Here it says that a girl taught him the ways of harmony and would lure him into it by feeding him. They grew close and a deep friendship blossomed. There are many theories that they were in love. Their connection didn’t last. He became prideful once he realized his strength and threw his weight around. Constantly, she intervened until there was an accident,” They lean in to hear. “He killed her.”

Yuuji’s eyes are wide. “He didn’t like being told what to do. All of her teaching of peace and contentment went out the window when he became obsessed with the abolishment of the government. He was reckless with it. Never caring about the people he dragged in it, the damage and death. So, after an altercation, he killed her. He lost his mind once he saw what he had done and decided to become the monster she feared since there was no anchor for him.”

All three were silent. “How did she die?” Yuuji asks. “There are a lot of theories on it. Some say he hit her, others say he went to fight someone else and she got in the way. But my favorite one is that he bit her throat out. I only say that because of the possibility of him being a cannibal.”

“W-why are you smiling?” You touch your face and realize that you are. “It’s kind of romantic, you know? Death and destruction versus peace and harmony, only for them to inevitably crash. I don’t think one could live without the other and his legend shows that. And the story shows their deep connection. It’s romantic but tragic.

“Anyway, the higher ups thought he was the embodiment of evil. It’s said that there are some major hauntings with his remains! Feel it!” You place it in Setsuko’s hand, causing her to scream. The timer beeps, stopping the noise. Setsuko and Takeshi gather their things and leave. “Okay! When do you want to do this ag-” You finish the last word silently as the door slams. “Um…”

“Tomorrow, same time?” Yuuji smiles. You nod. “Yeah. maybe I shouldn’t have brought him.”

“I liked it. But I would like to see more ghost-y things. But like the way you tell a story is…soothing and…enchanting? I’m not very good with words.”

“It’s okay, I’m not either.” You have a genuine smile on your face. Yuuji’s eyes shine at the sight. "I do hate his name though. In my family, he was thought highly of. Now knowing the other side of him feels different, you know?"

With his addition, you give a breathy chuckle. Him hating Sukuna's name was a bit unexpected. “I have a few more things of his and other haunted stuff. Even a Rubik’s cube that belonged to a possessed girl.”

He laughed, not at you, but your excitement. “How was she possessed?”

“I can’t remember, but apparently she was so possessed that her head spun around 360!”

“Good God.”

“I know, sometimes you gotta call on him. No joke, I would have dropped kicked that little girl.” Once again, Yuuji laughs. It makes you feel so light.

___________

The next day, you brought the Rubik’s cube and a set of teeth, this time belonging to a priestess that held bitterness. Your backpack also held some of her things, like the dirt from her grave. All of these items held some kind of haunted story and were said to be cursed. You couldn’t wait to show everyone in your club. Maybe after this, you could take them to the sites they were found.

After class, was lunch. You bring out your lunchbox only for the teeth to fall out. Thankfully, they’re in their bag that’s wrapped in sacred seals to hold the spirit in. Someone grabbed it before you could and opened it. The guy, the class president or something, screams bloody murder.

The teacher comes around and demands to know what’s going on. The president tosses the bag at you and some of her teeth come out. “W-what’s this, (L/n)?”

“Her name was Kikyo. I brought her for my club.” Literally, the class freezes and just stares at you. You quickly collect Kikyo and put her back in the bag, lest her spirit comes out. You’d hate for someone to be cursed without the proper seals.

“(L/n), keep your things in there, do you understand?” You don’t like his stern tone and judgmental pointed finger, but you nod, nonetheless. You open your lunch and chew on the apples. There is a deep feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something awful and scary. You can feel their eyes on you, hear their mean words and the disdain they have for you.

Even the teacher is rubbing his face. Still, you eat your apple slices to sound them out. In the corner of your eye, Yuuji sits and glances at you. You have tuned them all out, so you can’t process what’s being said right that second.

"Are you sure you like her? What for?" His friend in front of him asks in a whisper. “I like the way she eats and she has pretty handwriting. And her voice is very soothing, don't you think?"

You didn’t hear it.

_____________

After school, you went to the girl's bathroom and washed your face with cold water. Anything to get rid of the pressure of the tears threatening to come out. At least you have your club. They’ll be excited to see how haunted these things are.

In the rec room, only Yuuji sits. “Uh, they decided to not do it anymore.”

You don’t know why that hurts as much as it does. Is it because you thought for a split second that these people could be your friends? Perhaps they might’ve shared similar interests as you. Maybe, you wouldn’t be so alone.

It’s their choice if they want to stay or not, of course. However, it is how they did it and why. Why couldn’t they tell you personally? Were they that scared? Hopefully, a slim spark of hope, that they were too busy and couldn’t anymore. No hard feelings, no resentment, just busy and they got permission from the principal.

How naive can you get?

“I’m here, though! I’d like to hear about the teeth.” You smile at Yuuji and sit down next to him.

“Okay, her name was Kikyo, a strong but scorned priestess. I found her grave and took some dirt, and I could have sworn I heard her speak. She growled a name that I didn’t know. When I looked it up, it was her lover!”

That day, you gave him her teeth and her grave soil since he liked her story so much. He wants to go to her grave with you soon.

_______

“But-”

The principal shakes his head. “No buts. You’re bringing body parts to school and God knows what else.”

“They’re haunt-”

“Not to mention that there are only two of you now. Actually, one. Yuuji is now put in an extracurricular activity that suits him.”

You know. Sports. He told you yesterday during your last meeting. He brought you apples and a holy seal he bought from a vendor. You asked why he brought apples and he said it’s because he likes hearing you crunch. You wanted to eat extra loud for him but didn't want to seem desperate or anything, so you didn't.

“This isn’t fair.” You look at the principal defiantly. Before this, you could’ve sworn he sided with you on this. When it comes to sports, everything flies out the window apparently.

“It is. Yuuji Itadori is good for the school. And having literal body parts be in here isn’t allowed. And neither is lying on the form of members.” You sink into your seat. When the two quit, you remembered that you needed at least three members. So, you lied on the check up form and said that they were still a part of it. At the time, you believed it was a harmless lie.

“What about me, though? Where am I supposed to be? I’m a part of the school too.”

He sighs. “I told you an occult club wouldn’t fly well with others. Now, they think you’re a serial killer, (L/n).”

You know. The teeth and the whole Sukuna thing apparently were damning enough. “I’m still a part of the school. You can’t just care about those good at sports, you know.”

“I do care.”

“Then why shut me down?” The principal leans back in his chair. “No one wants to do it with you, (L/n). They don’t want to join.”

At his words, you shed tears.

__________________

“(Y/n)! Wait!” You walk away from Yuuji faster, desperate to get home and into the arms of your loving parents. For them to hold you and tell you that you aren’t scary and weird. That one day you’ll have friends, you won't be lonely forever. There's nothing wrong with you, they'd say. You're beautiful, wonderful, special, and worthy.

“Hey!” He grabs your shoulder. You turn your face away from him, so he doesn’t see you crying. “Hey, hey! Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

“I’m not!” You wipe your tears with your sleeve, desperate to not let them fall. It’ll be just another thing for someone to talk about. That the serial killer cried and will want vengeance. Actually, you heard someone say that not too long ago.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.” He places his large hand on your back to soothe you. Repeatedly, you rub your face and insist that you don’t need help and that you’re not crying.

“Alright, if you say so. But I’d feel better if I’d walk with you.” It’s silent for a moment. You peek at him and see his yellow hoodie in his arms. He gently places it on you.

“You don’t have to tell me why you’re not crying. If you ever want to though, I’m listening.”

Finally, the two of you come across your house. Before now, you didn’t think anything of it. Never thought it was creepy or plain, lavish or bland. You never cared since no one ever came around. However, you did notice that people walked a little faster when passing by.

Now, you feel those things. Your house is a little dark and on historic grounds. In the back are old graves that you are sure are haunted. The floors creak something awful and there are no flowers growing anywhere. The property your family owns is very large and hidden. There is so much to explore and to discover, you loved the thought of having your club see the haunted and spooky sites. For them to see the collections your family has and how if they listen close enough, they can hear the voices.

“Thank you for walking me home.” You leave him on the sidewalk, not wanting to hear his critique of your home or your tears.

____________

The next day, you walk to school with your head down. The only thing that made this school bearable was the club. You have your earbuds in and listen to your favorite music. Suddenly, your left bud was pulled out. You gasp and see Yuuji with it in his hand. “I’ve been calling you.”

You want to ask him why he’s talking to you when there isn’t anything to talk about. Is it your home? You?

“Hey, uh, I was wondering if you could come to practice. To cheer me on?” His hand is at the back of his neck again.

“Why?” Your eyes trail him up and down, waiting for any sign of deceit. “Because…I’d like for you to. You don’t have to! But I’d really like it if you did!”

No one’s invited you to anything before. And Yuuji has always been nice to you. He even walked you home, so, why not? If you feel the least bit out of place, you’ll run for your life. Right now, you just want to enjoy this buzzing, fluttery feeling you have. It may never happen again.

Surprisingly, you were fine. Sitting on the bleachers as Yuuji and his team work out strategies and do laps around the gym. There are a few people observing the team as well. Clearly, most are the significant others of the players.

You see Yuuji constantly make the shot. His teammates are happy, but a little jealous of his athleticism. Yet, Yuuji never rubs it in. All he does after is smile and look at you. Sometimes, you get the feeling he's showing off. Especially after he makes a shot, he makes sure you see it.

There is a strange feeling. One you’ve experienced before somewhat. Years ago, you felt these feelings towards a classmate of yours. Their name is long forgotten but not the excitement and happiness it gave, no matter how faint and brief.

You like him. You like Yuuji Itadori. And with how he’s smiling so widely, you'll entertain the thought of your feelings being mutual. You wish he would smile forever. Is it odd to want that?

______________

“Are you coming to my game?” He hands you a little baggie of cut green apples. You happily bite into them after noticing that they're in different shapes. Some are stars others are flowers. There are some plain slices too.

His head rests on his hand, waiting for your answer. His practices have been alright so far. Sure, you’re a little awkward but other than that, no one pays attention to you. They’re too busy looking elsewhere that they don’t realize you are there. And seeing Yuuji shine and enjoy himself is…good. The only problem is that he looked a little happier when he was in your club. You want him to be truly happy, joyful, and not feel used and obligated to play sports.

No matter what, you are still suffering from butterflies every time you look at him. There’s no way you’d turn him down. He’s given you so many sweet moments. In a deep part of you, you feel like this is all a joke still. Waiting for the moment when he’ll laugh with his friends. Although it would devastate you, you think that the times you’ve had with him will stay with you as a blessed memory. Taking the lesson with you and letting go. At least, that’s what you want to say.

“Sure.” After you finish chewing, you notice him staring at you. “Yuuji, why do you watch me like that?”

“I like the way you eat. Your crunching is cute for some reason.”

Your face feels warm before you know it. Who would have thought of that weird compliment? “Thank you, Yuuji.”

You only catch a glimpse of his cheeks being red after you happily eat his gift. You think he might have cut the cute shapes himself.

After school, you get ready for the game. The Tokyo school is going against its sister school in Kyoto. Apparently, t hey have a fierce basketball team, with the majority of the weight falling on one player that Yuuji didn’t tell you the name of. Apparently, he’s fierce and as strong as Yuuji. Menacing, clever, and scary, the opposite of Yuuji's personality.

You close the locker door and make sure to lock it back up. The halls are emptying towards the game. It was held in the Tokyo school because it has a larger gym with sturdier baskets. At least that’s what you understood. You could listen to Yuuji talk about anything, and you do, but he loses you when it comes to sports. Nevertheless, you let him talk your ear off.

Suddenly, right as you turn a corner, you run into a large body. You rub your nose and look up. You gasp at who it is. He looks exactly like Yuuji. He’s tall, broad, but has tattoos and a dark aura. “Sorry.”

He raises his eyebrow and looks you up and down. His brows are furrowed, and he cocks his head. “Huh, you know Yuuji Itadori?”

You slowly nod yes. You don’t like how his mouth is curving upward to a suspicious smirk. “Hm, you are cute.” He traces your jaw with his finger. This is the first time anyone’s ever said that.

Disrupting the moment, is Yuuji. His eyes flick back and forth between you and his doppelganger. “Ryoumen…”

“Aye! We’re brothers, Yuuji. Call me Sukuna.” You look taken back for a second. “S-Sukuna? Your name is Sukuna?”

“See? Be like pretty face over here.” You feel like you're going to burst. No one other than your parents call you pretty. No one thinks so highly of you. Yuuji likes the way you eat and your handwriting, but he’s never said something like this.

“(Y/n), his name is Ryoumen, not Sukuna.” You’re taken back by the stern tone in his voice. You say nothing as the two guys glare at each other. Whatever happened between them, must be serious. They look so much alike, but their personalities cannot be any more different.

In the very short time you’ve known him, Sukuna seems brash and aggressive whereas Yuuji is gentle, soft and kind. It kind of fits his name because of his namesake. Sukuna Ryoumen. You wonder how he got the name and if his last name is really Itadori.

Sukuna sighs at Yuuji’s behavior. He turns to you and has a soft smile on his face. It doesn’t look devious at all. In fact, it’s Yuuji’s smile when you’re talking. It’s almost the same soft expression Yuuji gives. Now, his brother sports the same one.

“Meet with me after the game. I’d like to talk to you more. You are (Y/n), right?” You nod. "Figured as much. Yuuji talks about you all the time."

Yuuji’s face turns red and his eyes are wide. “S-Sukuna!”

“Ah, all it takes is you, huh? In that case,” Sukuna holds you by your chin. “I should stick around, then.”

“Sukuna, leave her alone.” You are literally standing there in the middle of this family drama with no clue what’s going on or what the goal is.

“How about this. If I win, you and I’ll go get a bite. If Yuuji wins, well, that won’t happen.”

Sukuna shrugs and doesn’t even look his brother’s way. Yuuji is becoming even more infuriated as Sukuna continues to touch your face then moves onto your hair. “G et away from her.”

Yuuji grabs your hand and leads you away. “Don’t I get a say?”

He isn’t listening to you. He’s fuming, steam practically coming out of his ears. “Stay away from him, okay?”

You scoff, though secretly loving this whole thing. It’s wrong and inappropriate but you do. It feels like your parent’s romance novels where the two love interests are fighting for the girl’s hand.

“He seems nice, Yuuji.” He stops, picks you up and sets you down on the nearest table, placed there to rearrange a classroom. You gasped as he sets you down. He's never done that before. “Look, he’s an asshole who’s only doing this to get under my skin. He’s bad news!”

“So, someone for once kind of likes me and you’re telling me it’s a fluke?” It stings a little. Yuuji grabs your shoulders. “No. It’s not like that. He doesn’t like you. He’s just playing with you! You’ll get hurt!”

“Am I not likable enough for him to be into me?”

He groans and lets go. “It’s not that-”

“I get that you are. Everyone does. Even I like you. Like, a lot. But are you saying this to get back at him for God knows what?” You missed what you said. It finally dawns on you, repeating over and over again.

I like you.

“Is this a joke?” Yuuji looks at you so curiously, too. Why would he think you’d joke about this? Why the hell did you say it?

He bites his lip a couple of times and lightly kicks the ground. He doesn’t look you in the face. “I-in what way? Because I-”

You don’t stay to listen. As you’re speechless, you wanted to tell him that you only like him, so, so much. That you’re only flattered with Sukuna. The reason why you’re offended is because he’s popping a bubble.

“H-hey!” You feel his hand on your wrist, trying to get you to stay. He thinks you’re joking. How is this a joke? You curse yourself and your stupidity.

There’s no reason to leave when it can be talked through. Damn, lie to him! Say you meant it as a friend, if you are chicken. Stand in front of him and demand why he thinks it’s a joke. Why is your stupid heart clenching and racing? Why do your eyes water? Again.

No, it’s lame to play dumb. The light feeling you had around Yuuji is slowly breaking away. Stupidly, you ran away when you could have covered it. Then, maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad and be so scary.

He’s like the sun. Bright, shining and happy. Whereas you are more like a worm or something. Being around him, before he thought you were joking when you were a fucking idiot for letting it slip, was warm. Almost as if you had discovered that someone was happy you were even there.

As you run away, you spot Sukuna with his teammates, laughing. The familiar feeling of dread creeps on you. Its heaviness is what you are afraid of and yet was waiting for.

His teammate, number five, stares at you and laughs heartily. Then, the rest follow. You don’t know why you even bother to look at Sukuna’s reaction. Hoping he’d intervene, that what your gut was telling you was a lie. That his teammates are just assholes and he isn’t in on it. That maybe it isn't what it looks like.

Never in your life have you seen such a wicked smile. Yuuji catches up to you and sees what’s taking place. Not being able to bear it, you leave again this time you don’t even try to stop the tears. You just met Ryoumen and was only flattered by him. No one likes to be the brunt of jokes, especially when the joker looks like Yuuji.

“You bastard!” Distantly, Yuuji yells.

______

It’s time for the game now. Because of what happened, you feel the urge to leave. There’s no reason for you to stay here, right? You rub your eyes harshly. You've cried so much lately, it's pathetic. Usually, you aren't this emotional and are able to shut down. These new blossoming feelings have been throwing you in for a loop.

“Why do I feel this way? Why’d I run…”

No, you know why you felt that way with Sukuna and Yuuji. It’s because for the first time in your life, you felt pretty and desirable. Two beautiful guys who’re built like Greek gods paid attention to you. From the books that you read, or the tales told, you felt unique in a good way.

Ryoumen and Itadori’s turbulent relationship started way before you came into the picture. You’re a toy to them and your feelings are a joke. Before this, you basked in the hope that you were worth something. And now, Ryoumen and his whole team laughed at you, said God knows what about you, and Yuuji, of all people, thought your feelings toward him were a joke.

It’s stupid. So, so, stupid. Here you are being dramatic and have wobbly lips when you should be used to something like this. You slap your cheeks a little and stand up, wiping your clothes from the dirt you were sitting on. This whole thing is going to blow up in your face. Here you are going inside to see the game and support the boy you like, even though it hurts. It hurts to see him and Ryoumen, when all you can do is think of the laughter. Hear the shattering of your self esteem that was being built. Ryoumen made you feel pretty, and Yuuji made you feel worth it.

You take a deep breath and remember those days. How he cut apples for you, listened to all of your stories and was interested in the same things. Yuuji never laughed at you and didn't make you feel less than, back then. Though he thought you were joking, seeing him play and be happy is worth it for a while. As a repayment for the memories that are pure and cannot be tainted, you’ll support him in this game. Later, you’ll worry about everything. Right now, you have a game to watch and a friend who made you feel lighter than a feather in those sweet moments to cheer on.

________________________

You stand in the back beside the bleachers. You’re hidden from the majority, but the players can see you and vice versa. The two teams are completely brutal. The game is going by fast and hard. The cheerleaders are getting distracted by the intensity until finally they give up and just watch as the two main players duke it out. Yuuji and Ryoumen are vicious towards each other. The rest of the teammates are dull in comparison. The brothers are faster, stronger, and more tactical when it comes to the sport. The coaches try to reign them in with no avail.

Suddenly, Ryoumen makes eye contact with you. His eyes gleam with something suspicious, something devious. He’s proven to be callous, shady and cruel, already.

Yuuji follows his brother’s eyes. His brown eyes widen in surprise and then they give a sharp glare to his brother. His lips are moving, saying something out of your earshot. You notice a few people in the stand look surprised as well, whispering to themselves and each other.

Then, the game goes to a whole new level. The referee is having trouble keeping up. The teammates are all but falling back. Some help them out, proving to be somewhat useful. Though, they are nothing compared to the brothers. There’s elbowing, slam dunks, and alarming speed. The referee calls them out several times because of their behavior, and yet, they don't stop.

Captivated by the game, you step forward. There’s shouting in anger and cheering. There’s so much noise. Because of that, you can’t hear what Ryoumen said to Yuuji again. He’s been talking to Yuuji for a while now. Their conversation isn’t friendly and probably shouldn’t be in front of everybody. Not when blood is trickling out of Ryoumen’s nose and blood from Yuuji’s lips.

Why isn’t anyone stopping them? The referee won’t go near them and neither will the coaches. They need to be separated! Or maybe go on the football field or boxing ring. Either one will do. This is way too aggressive and violent for basketball. Isn’t the point of the game to throw a ball in a basket? So what the hell is this?

Finally, as both teams are tied, it’s now or never. The game can go either way. The seconds on the clock tick way too slow. Ryoumen’s dribbles are creative and his moves with finesse. You and everyone could have sworn it was over for Yuuji when Ryoumen was close to Yuuji’s basket, just mere feet away.

Yuuji appeared in front of his brother. He fakes his right hand and Ryoumen, going by Yuuji’s movements, swerves it. Suddenly, like he teleported, Yuuji has the ball, taken from behind.

It’s amazing, fantastic, even. Yuuji jumps from so far away, and so high. Ryoumen has no time to react when his brother slam dunks it, taking the hoop with him to the ground. The buzzer rings, signaling your school’s, no, Yuuji’s, win.

For the first time, you scream in delight, jumping up and down. He won! He beat Ryoumen and all of them!

His teammates crowd him and lift him up. You remain in the background and still are proud and happy for him. Ryoumen spits and gives a look so menacing it has you worried. Yet, Yuuji laughs it off. Almost as if a weight has been lifted off of him. It’s interesting to see their dynamic. It just sucks that you were caught in the middle.

Just as you turn to leave, Yuuji calls out your name. Immediately you freeze at his voice. Your old worries are back and no longer are you joyful. If only you could push it down forever. Or get it out and never pick it up again. If only Yuuji were as honest as he looked.

No, get them out. That terrible little voice that has been built up for years due to your treatment. Push it away from Yuuji and face him. He isn’t Sukuna. He isn’t the people that made fun of you and avoided you. He’s the sun that shined on you. Even if it was for a sweet, sweet moment.

You face him, ready for you to be made into a joke just as his brother and the rest of the school had done. As if a song had played smoothly, and slowly, Yuuji grabs your hands in his. His lips are still bleeding and he’s covered in sweat.

“I won, (Y/n).” His sunny rays are beaming at you when he smiles. “I saw. You did pretty good.”

“I wanted to win for you. Are you happy?” Yes, yes you are. There’s pressure behind your eyes again. “Yes, you made me happy.”

He smiles wider then stops. He rubs underneath your eye. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes.”

“I like you too.” There’s a soft pink tint to his cheeks. His brown eyes are so warm and honest. In the time you’ve known him, you have realized he can’t lie to save his soul. So, is this real? The boy you are familiar with, that you have feelings for, says he likes you too.

You take the leap.

“I’m happy that you do, Yuuji.” His teammates and friends say nothing. There’s no snickers or whispers. No malicious smiles or anything. He leans in for a moment then stops. “I would kiss you but my lips are bloody.”

You chuckle and tell him thanks. That wouldn’t be a good first kiss, you think. “What do we do now?”

He decided not to kiss you, but to hug you instead. Yuuji’s a good hugger.

#yuuji itadori #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuuji #jjk fanfic #jjk #fluff and angst #sukuna #q #oof idk how this is whoopsie

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